International Magical Cooperation
by Jocelyn
Summary: An international Quidditch star and bookish schoolgirl make an unlikely connection in the Hogwarts library during GOF. Ch. 7: With Harry missing and Viktor gone with half the Order searching for Avalon, Hermione seeks answers from a dangerous source.
1. Flying

_**A/N: **There are a few things I must make clear before you proceed, dear readers.  
__**1)** This is a Viktor/Hermione story, going firmly with the idea that there was a real romance between those two during Goblet of Fire, and continuing that romance. While I am normally a Ron/Hermione shipper, I am deviating from my usual fare with this tale. Be warned if you're a shipping hardliner.  
__**2)** The Viktor in this story, for those who like to visualize, is the Viktor portrayed by Stanislav Ianevski in the Goblet of Fire movie, not the thin, sallow-skinned, hook-nosed, thick-eyebrowed Viktor of the book. Why? Simple: I FANGIRL Stanislav Ianevski—got a problem with that? So while I adoooored his appearance in the movies, I had a couple of objections to the way he was portrayed in the flick. This little tale aims to give my favorite magical jock his due—and Hermione the first lad who really appreciated her.  
__**3)** This story uses a combination of book and movie canon, basically blending the aspects of each that I liked best.  
__**4)** I originally said this would be three chapters, max. Okay, I lied. Come on, when have you ever known me to be succinct. This IS a short story, currently holding steady at four chapters.  
__**5)** I am following the theory that Durmstrang is either located in Germany or founded by German wizards (based on an excellent essay analyzing its name and likely languages that can be found on the Harry Potter Lexicon), and by extension, although Viktor Krum is (and normally speaks) Bulgarian, the standard language spoken at Durmstrang would be German._

_**Special Thanks:** To Mum, always my fabulous beta-reader, idea-bouncer-offer, and Mum extraordinaire!_

* * *

**International Magical Co-operation**

**Chapter One: Flying**

Honestly, revising Cross-Species Transfiguration essays was difficult enough _without_ Viktor Krum and his ruddy entourage stampeding through the library every five minutes. Hermione scowled at her book as the horde of sixth-year girls giggled their way past her table, jostling her chair and disordering her neatly-arranged notes and carefully-marked pages with the breeze of their passage.

"Don't worry, everyone, it's not as if people use the library to _study_ or anything," she growled, grabbing a stack of notes before they could float off the table. The girls either didn't hear her or ignored her, too set on their pursuit of Krum.

And why on earth couldn't Krum _sit down_ for five minutes? Honestly, there were plenty of available tables; why did he have to keep moving around all the time? As if answering Hermione's thoughts, the brawny Durmstrang boy walked very quickly past her table—with the consideration not to bump it, but still creating enough motion in the air to send half her notes flying again.

Hermione almost screamed in aggravation, diving after them, but was brought up short by seeing Krum half-turn back, looking apologetic as if he were about to help her retrieve the papers. But then the Quidditch player's dark eyes flicked toward something beyond Hermione, and he scowled, beating a hasty retreat around the stacks. A chorus of whispers and giggles warned Hermione that her papers were unlikely to stay safe for long.

With a furious huff, she snatched her materials up, slapped her books closed as hard as she could to relieve her frustration—she normally would never abuse books, but it was either that or use the books to bludgeon Krum and his fan club to death, and she suspected the latter would damage the books more—and stalked out of the library. Maybe there wouldn't be anyone in the common room this early in the afternoon.

As it happened, Harry and Ron were the only ones there, playing Exploding Snap on the couch—loudly—with Harry's golden egg sitting against his hip.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hermione burst out. "Don't you two have anything better to do?"

The boys blinked at her. "We wanted a little piece and quiet, Hermione, what's your problem?" Ron demanded.

Hermione threw her book bag to the floor, hard. "Maybe _I_ want a little peace and quiet to work on some things that are actually _important_, like _studying_, and you and every other rotten excuse for a student in this ruddy school are making it IMPOSSIBLE!" She kicked the bag furiously and threw herself into a chair, feeling frustrated tears prickling in her eyes.

Ron looked appalled and Harry more flustered, and she immediately felt bad. Harry at least had enough on his mind already without her storming in and yelling at them for what really wasn't either of their faults.

"Sorry," she muttered, conjuring a handkerchief and wiping her face. "I can't get anything done in the library because of Krum and his fans; it's driving me mad." Predictably, Ron still looked baffled, but Harry looked sympathetic. She smiled wryly at him. "I guess you're hiding out from the same thing."

"Yeah, we got away from Harry's fans all right, but not your barking mad temper," Ron pointed out, but he was grinning.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry." She pointed at Harry's egg. "Any luck?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet."

"He's got something more important on his mind!" Ron protested.

"What could possibly be more important—"

"Professor McGonagall told me after class that I have to have a _dance_ partner for the ball," muttered Harry, turning slightly green. "The champions have to _open _the ball."

He looked so alternately terrified and dejected that Hermione found herself dying to laugh at him. Instead, she forced herself to be sympathetic. Boys didn't cope well with this sort of thing, after all, and Harry was almost a year younger than her. Ron—well, Ron was Ron.

"It won't be that bad," she told Harry. "You've not only got every girl at Hogwarts to choose from, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang girls too. There'll be someone you can go with."

Harry still looked less than confident—but rather comically so, Hermione privately thought. _This from the boy who divebombed a Hungarian Horntail._ What was it that terrified boys so much about girls?

* * *

She was in better spirits upon her return to the library the next day—Arithmancy wasn't exactly an easier subject than Transfiguration, but it wasn't a vital part of the curriculum, so she could relax a little while puzzling it out. But there was still the problem of finding a quiet part of the library not frequented by Viktor Krum and his fawning fangirls.

Because the study table areas were the easiest to traverse, those were the places Krum and the girls most often went scampering through. But the stacks were too narrow for Hermione to set up a table, and even if they hadn't been, she wouldn't be inconsiderate of other people trying to get to books.

Finally, while perusing the darkest, most-unused portion of the library, she came across a window alcove of decent size, quite possibly an old study nook, and Transfigured herself a work table and chair out of a broken stepladder. Krum and his entourage could still be heard occasionally—the girls were more determined than ever with the prospect of the approaching Yule Ball, and Krum seemed to be all-out running to get away from them.

At one point when Hermione heard him stamping around somewhere, she gritted her teeth in annoyance, but then stopped to consider: Harry absolutely hated the fawning of strangers…perhaps Krum was the same.

But Krum was a celebrity by choice, wasn't he? Surely one knew what one was getting into when one took up professional Quidditch!

Then again…_I wonder if any of those silly creatures know anything about Quidditch at all._ After all, nobody really knew what Harry's experience at Voldemort's hands had been like—including, Hermione had to admit, she herself. Many people just followed Harry around because he was famous, not caring what he was famous _for._

That, Hermione supposed, was what made Ron and Harry and other Quidditch fans different from those flocking pigeons out there; they appreciated Krum for his talent, not just because he was a celebrity. _Ron's soliloquizing about Krum's Seeker moves is proof enough of that, _she thought wryly, but it made her smile. If Ron and Harry could suppress their awe, they could probably have a fairly intelligent conversation with Krum about his profession. What would a famous person find to talk about to someone who just stared at them and giggled and didn't know anything about them?

Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when the object of her musings suddenly burst into her little nook, skidding through the small entrance clumsily, dropping the Potions textbook he was carrying, and nearly crashing onto her table. Hermione rocked back in her chair, saved from toppling over only by the wall behind her, and Krum caught himself on the table's edge. For once, there was an expression on his face other than his trademark glower—he looked mortified.

Struggling for words, he began, "I…ah, I am…" and then they both heard the patter of mincing feet approaching. Hermione watched, dumbfounded, as Krum glanced around with a frantic expression and finally stepped from the doorway fully into the nook and pressed himself against the narrow wall opposite her.

Moments later, the girls came scurrying through the stacks like a pack of bloodhounds and discovered Hermione in the little stone niche, but when Hermione just stared blankly at them, they moved on without bothering to investigate further.

As their footsteps, whispers, and detested giggling died away, Krum slouched in relief and closed his eyes. Then he opened them, met Hermione's gaze, and blushed. "I am…" he looked down, then back at her, "I am sorry to haff disturbed you. I vill go if you vish…" he glanced at the entry back into the library, visibly steeling himself to continue fleeing his admirers, and picked up the Potions book.

"Oh…" Hermione said hastily. "It's all right, no harm done. Er…if you…" There was no mistaking his hopeful expression, and she felt blood rushing to her own face. She'd met his eyes before, when he passed her in the Great Hall or in the library, but…this was the first time she'd really noticed how very, very dark they were. She told herself to stop staring at him like one of his fans and said, "If you want to study in here, I don't mind."

She was pleased with how level her voice sounded, but then he actually smiled…a sheepish, shy sort of smile, not those big goofy grins like most boys she knew. Her hands felt uncoordinated as she tried to rearrange her books and notes to give him half of the table, and moved her chair so he could sit where no one who passed by the alcove would see him.

Perhaps it was just the turmoil of being hunted by a horde of Yule Ball-minded females, but Krum seemed strangely clumsy for someone who was reputed as the world's best player of the most precise position in Quidditch. His motions were rather fumbling as he retrieved his Potions book and the notes that had fallen out of it, and trimmed a new quill nib. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on what he was doing, and Hermione found herself staring at his hands. They were very big—like him—but not too long or too thick, just large and perfectly in proportion with his sturdy build and broad shoulders, and…

He glanced up and froze under her scrutiny. Hermione felt herself going red again, and Krum too blushed. Then he gave her another of those awkward smiles…_ooh._ _Why the hell didn't anyone warn me Viktor Krum was handsome?_

* * *

So that was how Hermione found herself the unlikely study partner of Viktor Krum. Well, at first, they were more like study companions, seldom saying more than "Hello," or inquiring as to how classes were going or remarking on the weather before delving into their respective revision. But Viktor was pleasantly quiet while studying, not fidgety like Harry or grumbling like Ron. He was also, Hermione had to admit, very easy to look at, when she stole a quick glance while turning pages.

It was strange, but Hermione almost didn't connect the quiet, undeniably handsome boy who sat across her table with the hulking, glowering figure who seemed rather out of place among the other three Triwizard champions. Of all the champions, Viktor had been interviewed the least. Poor Harry couldn't seem to get away from Rita Skeeter even with his Invisibility Cloak, Fleur was perfectly willing to chat with reporters—although she too avoided Rita due to the woman's penchant for misquoting, and Cedric was too obliging to refuse interviews (and he was a reporter favorite, being almost as photogenic as Fleur.)

Viktor Krum, Harry had once remarked, kept his distance from the other champions, often thwarting Harry's search for dark corners to hide in by getting to them first, and tended to slouch against the wall and scowl at the floor. "I mean, he's not rude," Harry had said. "Not really rude, anyway. Cedric always says hello, and he says hello back, and sometimes people talk to him, but he just doesn't say much. Moody says his head's full of sawdust. They say he never talks in classes."

Hermione hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now, watching Viktor at his work, she knew that couldn't be true. His notes were in a combination of English, German, and Bulgarian, and he seemed very good at the chemistry elements of Potions and the physics involved in Complex Transfiguration. (She'd peeked at his notes a few times when he left the alcove to retrieve more books. Sometimes she couldn't figure out what subject he was working on but for the equations in the notes—which fortunately were a universal language.)

About a week after Hermione and Viktor started studying together, the champions were dragged into yet another rules-lecture-cum-photo-shoot by the Ministry and the _Daily Prophet._ Hermione and Ron sat with Harry while a few Durmstrangs and Beauxbatons hovered around Viktor and Fleur, and the Hufflepuffs with Cedric. It had been a grueling day for the whole school—and the guest schools—between the increasingly-heavy load of schoolwork, Yule Ball anxieties, and (horror of horrors) dancing lessons from the teachers, so none of the champions were very enthusiastic about thinking about "the tremendous challenges that await you," as Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch put it.

Harry'd been having nightmares again and was practically asleep on Hermione's shoulder five minutes into the presentation. She and Ron glared as hard as they could at Rita Skeeter, knowing this would spawn another chapter in the "Harry and Hermione Love Story of the Century," as the twins put it. Good lord, Bagman and Crouch could prattle on! By the end of the nearly two-hour-long lecture (or press conference, really), Harry had been sound asleep on Hermione, Ron was sound asleep on Harry, Fleur had fallen asleep with her head in Madame Maxime's lap, Cedric and the Hufflepuffs were starting to form a domino effect on their bench, and Viktor had been valiantly trying (with increasing lack of success) to keep his eyes open.

At one point, Viktor blinked himself awake and met Hermione's gaze, startled to see Harry so comfortably snoozing on her, but she grinned, nodding to the rest of the room. Viktor took in the rather sorry state of everyone else and bit his lip, clearly containing laughter. Even Rita Skeeter had fallen asleep.

That evening, refreshed by their unplanned nap, they wound up back in the library and laughingly recounted the smashing success of Bartemious Crouch and Ludo Bagman at curing the entire school's collective insomnia in one afternoon. It was the longest conversation they'd had so far—well, the first real conversation they'd had, to be honest—and Hermione discovered a surprisingly keen sense of humor in the Bulgarian boy. Although Viktor was enthusiastic about the competition and the Tasks themselves, he found the Ministry and the press portrayal of the champions ridiculous. Hermione was gratified, albeit surprised, to learn that Viktor was well aware of the _Daily Prophet's_ deceptive and downright-exploitative treatment of Harry, and unlike the majority of the people at Hogwarts, he did not blame Harry.

"I am not thinking he put his name in the Goblet," Viktor told her. "I did not know at first, but I see he is not happy to be in the Tournament."

"I think most people realize that now," Hermione grumbled. "Harry's never wanted to be famous, but other people assume that because they do, he must. It's very unfair."

"That reporter, Skeeter, is irritating all of us. She is alvays asking Fleur and Cedric about boyfriends and girlfriends. I vill not speak to her at all." But then Viktor smiled. "Fleur is to go to the Ball vith a Roger Davies of Hogwarts. Skeeter was chasing them over the grounds after the conference."

"Oh no," Hermione laughed. "Poor Fleur and Roger—though they should have had the good sense not to tell everyone ahead of time."

* * *

A few days later, Hermione noticed Viktor being uncharacteristically restless in his seat as he worked. More than once, she caught him looking at her, and finally asked, "Is something wrong?"

Viktor blushed. He did that a lot, not the glowing red to the ears like Ron—Viktor's skin was too dark—but when she was near him, she could see the faint reddening of his cheeks when he got embarrassed. Then he rubbed his forehead and looked down at his book. "I do not know if…this part of the book…"

Hermione got up and came around the table to read over his shoulder. Partial Transfigurations…_ooh._ She'd heard that was one of the hardest aspects of Transfiguration to grasp. Viktor was only in the chapter introduction, but seemed to already be having trouble following the concept. "They say Partial Transfiguration is the hardest," she said reassuringly. "It may not make sense right away."

"It is not that," Viktor muttered, not looking at her. At the moment, he seemed more like his sullen public persona. "It is…my English is not…ven ve move into the equations, it is easy to understand, but…"

"Oh." Hermione summoned her chair and sat down beside him. "Well, maybe I can help with that." Viktor shot her a grateful glance, and it dawned on her then that he was embarrassed. She wondered if that was the reason he hardly spoke to anyone outside of Durmstrang. He obviously understood the subject matter; he just had trouble explaining it due to his lack of command of English.

And if there was one thing that magical and Muggle textbook writers had in common, it was that they tended to make basic explanations twice as complicated as they needed to be. (Hermione'd been told on more than one occasion that she herself had that problem.)

So she spent the next two hours—right up until curfew—trying to decipher the chapter introduction on Partial Transfiguration so that she could put it in English that was basic enough for Viktor to understand. They laughed a lot during those two hours; the subject matter was three years ahead of anything Hermione had studied, and her attempts at explaining something she herself couldn't quite understand left Viktor almost cross-eyed.

He tried to keep his good humor, but it was obvious that he was frustrated and self-conscious, and she put a hand on his arm. "English is the hardest language in the world to learn, and you speak it very well already. Stuff like this," she indicated the book, "is hard even for us to understand. And I'm not just saying that to make you feel better," she added, almost reading what he was thinking.

Viktor blushed again, but his smile met his eyes this time, and Hermione was suddenly very aware of how very close together they were sitting. Not that there was much choice in the small space, but…her heart sped up. It didn't help that when he wasn't staring at the floor or his book but actually _looking_ at her with his guard down, he had the nicest eyes she had ever seen. Not "pretty" eyes, exactly—Cedric Diggory and even Harry had "prettier" eyes than Viktor—but something about Viktor's seemed more attractive. They were dark, but not like Karkaroff's empty, cold black eyes or Snape's hard, bitter gaze. Viktor's eyes were warm and soft, conveying easily as much feeling as Harry's—without the drama, she thought ironically.

Hermione was very distracted for the rest of the night, all through dinner, all the way up the stairs back to Gryffindor Tower, while she sat in the common room, and then in the dormitory. She talked to Harry and Ron about…something, but whatever it was, it didn't stick in her mind. She was too busy contemplating Viktor's eyes.

* * *

Tensions over the Yule Ball were reaching fever pitch, those last few weeks of the term, and Harry and Ron were growing increasingly frantic about the prospect of finding dates. Hermione was much more sympathetic to Harry's situation than Ron's, since Professor McGonagall had made it clear that Harry would be dancing in front of everyone at the start of the ball whether he liked it or not. And Harry's hesitation to ask someone to go with him was at least an honest reason—his fixation on Cho Chang—unlike Ron, who didn't care what his date was like as long as she was pretty.

"They're my best friends, but they are _maddening _sometimes," she told Viktor one day, after a morning of trying to gently chivvy Harry into asking Cho out and arguing with Ron about what qualities were more important in a date. "I can usually put up with Harry's…quirks; he's been through a lot, and his heart's usually in the right place even if his brains usually aren't, but _Ron…_he is _so shallow _sometimes!"

Viktor was startled by her vehemence, but took it in stride. "They vill learn vhen they are older, Hermy-own. I vas…" He broke off and blushed, and Hermione grinned at him.

"You were like them at that age, you were going to say?"

Viktor shrugged. "It is a part of growing older, I think. And girls…vell…I am thinking you are alvays ready for such things sooner than boys. Ve are all afraid of girls vhen ve are children, and still it is hard to talk to you. I came to the library for days vanting to talk vith you, but I did not have the courage—er…"

This time he went so red that it was reminiscent of Ron, and Hermione stared at him in astonishment. "You…you mean…"

"I…ah…vell…" He was so flustered that he didn't even look away from her; he just stared back, wide-eyed. "Alvays I saw you studying, and you are not like the other girls here, you are…different," he finished weakly. "You _like_ to vork; you do not come here because you are forced by school or to…chase boys," he grimaced, no doubt thinking of his fan club.

From his fumbling attempt to explain, Hermione realized what it was he was saying, and felt herself blushing, but from flattery rather than embarrassment. "Thank you," she murmured. "No one's ever said that to me before."

"You are not offended?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "Most people say my studying makes me boring!" The look of outrage on Viktor's face was further proof that he was not offering empty compliments. Suddenly, she felt like she ought to return the favor. There were plenty of nice things she could honestly say to him…if she could do it without turning scarlet or stammering, that is. "I like…the same sort of things about you," she said awkwardly. "That you like to read and think, and...being challenged. Most people don't. They're afraid of anything that's 'hard.'"

"I haff noticed that too," Viktor agreed. He swallowed convulsively and went on, "I have vished to…ask you…but I do not know…are you to go to the Ball vith someone?"

Hermione's heart dropped out of her chest and landed with a splash somewhere in her stomach. It was a moment before she could open her mouth with certainty that her voice would work. "Uhhh…no. I mean, I don't have a…I mean, no one's…asked me…er…"

Looking more nervous than he had in the Quidditch World Cup _or_ the First Task, Viktor said slowly, as though only the strongest determination was making him force the words out, "Then…vould you please…I mean to say…vould you go to the Ball vith me?"

She felt herself gulp, and to her horror, there was a lump in her throat. Heaven knew what Viktor would think if she started to cry—that was even worse than giggling! It wasn't as if he'd asked her to marry him, for goodness sake…_get a grip on yourself, girl!_ So she forced a sheepish smile and nodded vigorously at him, whispering so her voice wouldn't break, "Yes. Yes, I would love to go with you."

Viktor broke into a smile then too, letting his breath out with such relief that the funny side of it all hit them both at once, and they both started to laugh. When they resumed studying with much lighter hearts, Viktor shyly reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

* * *

After that rather nerve-wracking experience, she promised herself she wouldn't nag or scold Harry and Ron about dates anymore. After all, every boy was different, and even Viktor, who was four years older than they were, had apparently had to work up the courage…_to talk to me. ME!_ The idea was too bizarre to wrap her mind around.

But Harry and Ron were truly testing her patience. Well, Harry she felt badly for when it came to light that Cho Chang was going to the ball with Cedric Diggory. Ron, on the other hand, she sympathized with very little, _especially_ when, after carrying on for days about not wanting to end up with any of the "trolls," (of whom Eloise Midgeon, a perfectly sweet girl with the misfortune of an acne problem, had become representative), he actually had the nerve to try and use _Hermione_ as a last resort. Adding insult to injury, he prefaced his oh-so-charming request for a date with the brilliant observation of "you're a girl!"

Well, that certainly took care of any guilt she might have felt about refusing to go with Ron or help them more with finding dates. After she stomped up to her dormitory to fume, Harry evidently secured Parvati Patil and fixed up Ron with Parvati's twin sister Padma. Better than Ron deserved, in Hermione's opinion, for him to wind up not having to ask someone at all. Still, she thought later while in a more charitable mood, at least Ron couldn't complain now, since Padma was a nice, intelligent girl, and reasonably pretty, so there was no reason for them both to not have a wonderful time.

Right?

_Wrong._

Well, _her_ time at the ball was wonderful, even if the boys were determined to sulk through it all. Parvati and Padma were livid; both came complaining to Hermione at different points in the evening, and Hermione agreed Harry and Ron were being childish.

Viktor, by contrast, was the soul of decorum. She had wondered—with some apprehension—if the very public nature of the Yule Ball would push him back into his standoffish public face, which might have made for an awkward evening. She needn't have worried. He met her at the entrance with that hesitant, shy smile she liked so much…and a kiss on the hand before offering his arm.

The expressions of complete disbelief on her classmates' faces should have bothered her a little—honestly, she didn't think she looked _that_ different!—but with those big, dark eyes so close by whenever she looked at him, she couldn't be bothered to worry about anything else. Ron was still sulking and pointedly ignored her, but Harry was making a valiant effort not to stare at Cho Chang and so stared at Hermione instead.

As they made their way to the champions' table, Viktor stiffened, and his grip on her arm tightened ever so slightly. Hermione glanced at him, thinking maybe it was Harry's attention that was bothering him, but Viktor was looking up at the top table—at Karkaroff. Hermione followed his gaze and was startled to see the Durmstrang Headmaster looking quite displeased, his eyes darting from Viktor to her. Hm. Did he disapprove of Viktor attending the ball with a date from Hogwarts, she wondered…or was it because Hermione was the rumored girlfriend of Harry Potter?

Or maybe it wasn't Hermione that Karkaroff was put out with. It surprised her still more when Viktor actually attempted to steer them both _away_ from his own headmaster—and he scowled when Karkaroff got up and left his seat to graciously lead them to the seats beside his. Viktor looked so irritated that Hermione hurried to distract him by commenting on the decorations.

"The Great Hall is always very pretty at Christmas, but they've done a beautiful job this year."

Her effort met with success, and Viktor was soon questioning her at length about the rest of the wonders Hogwarts had to offer. She told him about the moving staircases—which he'd already discovered the hard way—the known secret passages, the decorations at holidays past, and wished she could tell him about the Chamber of Secrets. She did, however, tell him about Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which made him laugh.

"Vell," Viktor said, looking around the Great Hall again. "Ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking. Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these—though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer we are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains—"

"Now, now, Viktor," Karkaroff interrupted, with a laugh Hermione knew to be feigned without even having to look at him. "Don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Hermione was not the only one who saw the dark look in Viktor's eyes, and Dumbledore diverted Karkaroff's attention to himself. "Do you practice Quidditch at school?" she asked Viktor. "Or is your flying there just for fun?"

"Both," Viktor said immediately. "I vould fly all the time if I could. I practice for the Vorld Cup season with the professional team, but at school I have drills for flying, to keep speed and…" he frowned, moving his hand in quick motions to try to demonstrate the word he was looking for.

"Agility?" Hermione suggested. "Reflexes?"

"I think that is right," he said, blushing again, but he grinned. "I teach many friends at school the drills, and ve do them together."

Hermione pulled a face. "I'm surprised some of them don't fall off their broomsticks, trying to do your drills."

"Vell…sometimes they do." Hermione nearly laughed out loud and covered her mouth with her hand. "I do varn them that the drills are not easy, but still they vant to try them. The school Quidditch teams use them. Many days ve just fly, very far. Ve always go in a different direction."

There was no mistaking the delight Viktor took in flying. It surprised Hermione now that he hadn't thought of using a broomstick to match his agility against the dragons in the First Task. But as they talked, she mused that perhaps that wasn't the way Viktor viewed flying. Harry was a very talented, skilled flier, and he and Ron adored Quidditch, but neither of their obsessions approached the rapt expression on Viktor's face when he talked of flying. To Harry and Ron, flying was a means to an end: Quidditch or to steal an egg from a dragon. To Viktor, Quidditch was more of a means to spend all his time in flight.

For the first time, she found herself reluctant to admit that she hated flying.

Viktor, fortunately, was distracted from asking her about her taste in flying by Fleur Delacour's criticism of the decorations. He sat with his head half-tilted toward Fleur and Roger Davies, still facing Hermione as he listened in, then rolled his eyes. Hermione grinned, but then Karkaroff looked about to return his attention to Viktor, so she leaned toward him. "Would a poltergeist be expelled from Durmstrang?"

"I do not know," Viktor replied cheerfully. "I have not seen a poltergeist there. Perhaps ve vould practice spells on him first."

Hermione laughed. "I wish we could do that with Peeves!" Viktor sensed someone watching him—Karkaroff—and started to look around, but Hermione dared to nudge him with her knee and give a warning shake of her head. He got the message all right, his scowl was proof of that.

"Do you like to fly, Hermy-own?" he asked, with forced cheer.

"Er…it's Her-my-oh-nee," she said.

"Herm-own-ee…" Viktor trailed off and pulled a face.

"Her-my-oh-nee," she repeated, grinning.

"Herm-own-ninny," he tried again, then frowned, certain he still hadn't got it right.

"Close enough," she said, and grinned past him at Harry, who was watching with a quizzical expression. To her (and Viktor's) intense relief, Karkaroff was distracted again by the dancing about to start.

She was a little nervous when they paraded out onto the dance floor, but Viktor seemed fairly confident—in contrast to Harry, who looked about to be sick. Parvati was practically dragging him. She almost whispered at him to relax, but decided that wouldn't really help in front of all these people.

And Viktor was a more than competent dancer. She barely noticed those first few moments of the Weird Sisters' first song when they were among only four couples on the dance floor…she knew enough dancing to carry herself through, but she'd never realized what a delight it could be to have a partner who led well enough for her to just follow without having to think too much. When the floor filled up, Viktor became a little more daring, smiling openly at her as they went round and round, occasionally lifting her above his head.

_Maybe there are some kinds of flying I like after all._

She saw Harry fleeing the dance floor as soon as the song ended, and considered going to tell him to buck up, but three of Viktor's Durmstrang classmates rushed up to them, dates in tow, and began urging them closer to the stage. Hermione got a rushed introduction to Sven Poliakoff and his date, Yvette Thibault of Beauxbatons, Alexiev Chekov, who was partnered with Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor, and Katya Turischeva and her date, Marcel deSchetliar of Beauxbatons. She and Viktor found themselves in a tight mass of students, whooping and singing along to the Weird Sisters' latest big hit, dodging elbows and arms and feet as they danced.

Sven, Alexiev, and Marcel formed a tight knot and started head-banging, dragging Viktor in to join them (whether his red face was due to exertion or embarrassment was anyone's guess), and Hermione and the other three girls shrieked with laughter. Finally, Viktor extracted himself from the wizards gone wild in favor of spinning Hermione around and around while she tried to imitate the more popular dance moves some of the other girls were doing. She had no idea how successful she was, but Viktor didn't seem to care. (She had no way herself of knowing whether he was actually dancing or just pretending to know what he was doing either, so it didn't really matter.) Viktor's friends and their dates danced in a circle around them at one point, and everyone changed places so a different couple wound up in the middle to be cheered on and ribbed every few minutes. It was marvelous.

When the song was over, they staggered out of the mass of bodies, laughing and gasping for breath. Sven, Alexiev, and Katya tried to drag them back as the next song started, but Viktor laughingly waved them off, to Hermione's relief (she didn't think she'd survive another dance like that without passing out.) "Vould you like a drink?" he asked her.

"Yes, please," Hermione said, fanning her face. She glanced around for a free table and spotted Harry and Ron sitting with Padma, and gestured toward them. "Can we sit over there?"

"Of course. I vill bring the drinks." Viktor headed toward the refreshment table, and Hermione went happily to join the boys—who, she quickly discovered, were not in the best of moods.

By the time Ron had finished insulting Viktor, insulting the whole spirit of the Triwizard Tournament—_so dancing to "Do the Hippogriff" with Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs is fraternizing with the enemy, is it?—_insulting Hermione's intelligence, questioning Viktor's motives, questioning Hermione's loyalty and friendship…she was ready to spit, she was so angry. Harry mumbled something about not having a problem with Krum, but Ron ignored him, and Hermione bitterly thought that Harry was so busy trying to avoid a fight with Ron that he didn't have the courage to stand up for the one person who HAD stood by him before the First Task!

In the end, she simply stalked away from them, across the dance floor until she spotted Alicia and Alexiev, and joined them with the rest of Viktor's friends and their dates. She couldn't stand to even look at Ron and Harry for another second, the immature, thick-witted little _gits_, and she figured Viktor would head in this direction when he saw that she wasn't at the table.

Apparently, her pique was obvious, because the boys looked at her and muttered amongst themselves, and Alicia and Katya drew her aside to where they didn't have to shout over the noise on the dance floor. "What's the matter?" Alicia asked. "Did you and Viktor have an argument?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, dismayed. "No, Viktor was getting drinks—oh, I should have waited for him—it's Ron and Harry, they're being such prats about it!"

"They do not like Viktor?" Katya asked.

Hermione felt tears prickle her eyes and growled under her breath. Damn those boys for sullying all this! "No, _they _like him all right, when he's playing in the Quidditch World Cup. They just seem to have a problem with _me_ liking him for…other reasons. And they don't think he…I mean, they think I'm being stupid and that…"

Alicia's eyes widened with comprehension. "They don't think Viktor really likes you."

Katya laughed aloud, as if Alicia had said something absurd, then saw Hermione's expression and stopped. "They do believe this? They think Viktor vill not be honorable to you?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, basically, that's it."

Katya flipped her long, curled blonde hair with a huff of disgust that made her look like Fleur, and Hermione had to smile. "I vill go to find Viktor and bring him here. He vill not like his intentions insulted—"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing her arm. "No, don't tell him that! I mean—they're just being stupid. Just tell him I had a fight with them and leave it at that, please? I don't want to spoil the ball for anyone else!"

"If you vish," Katya said with a shrug. "I vill be back."

She was good to her word, and came back only a few moments later with Viktor at her heels. He handed Hermione a butterbeer and looked at her with concern as Alicia and Katya beat a hasty retreat. "Your friends are angry?"

"It's nothing," she told him. "They've been out of sorts for days about the ball, and they act like it's all my fault they didn't get the dates they wanted." That was probably the real truth, she thought suddenly, and felt better. It wouldn't be the first time Ron had assumed something so utterly stupid that he should definitely know better, when underneath he was just jealous.

_Jealous of Viktor or jealous of me?_ she suddenly wondered, and had to quash a hysterical giggle. _The twins did say he was in love with Krum…_

That gave her enough humor to shake the last of her mood off, and she and Viktor rejoined the others at an empty table with another round of butterbeers before they all returned to the dance floor. She saw both Parvati and Padma on the dance floor with other boys, but Ron and Harry were, to her relief, nowhere in sight.

At one point, when they sat down again, Hermione noticed Viktor glancing about apprehensively. At first, she wondered if he was looking for Harry and Ron, but when she asked, he replied, "No. I am seeing vhere Karkaroff is."

"I think he left," she said, and Viktor looked relieved. "You don't like your headmaster?"

"He is my headmaster, but he thinks he is my owner," Viktor grumbled sourly. At her startled face, he explained, "He is not kind, not to any of the other students. Often he is cruel. To me, he is not, because I am celebrity. He cares nothing for me or others, only him. If ever I am not a Quidditch player, he vill be as cruel to me as my friends."

That was the harshest thing Hermione had ever heard from Viktor, but she could well believe that what he said was true. She recalled Durmstrang's first night as Hogwarts's guests, and the way Karkaroff had fussed over Viktor while insulting and belittling another boy…that had been Sven Poliakoff, hadn't it? She put a sympathetic hand on Viktor's arm, and he sighed and smiled.

"Sven spills a drop of soup and he is disgusting; I sneeze once on the ship and I haff a head cold." He shook his head and laughed ironically. "I vill miss Durmstrang, I think, but I am glad to be leaving Karkaroff."

"I know how people are treated when they're celebrities," Hermione told him. "Well, not myself, of course, but I've seen it. With Harry. He's got that from teachers before, and all these wizards from the Ministry."

"I see it," Viktor agreed. "Ludo Bagman vill not go away from him." They both laughed. "And that boy from Mr. Crouch—he is Ron Veasley's brother, I know, but he is the same to me. They do not understand. They do not vant to. They vant only fame." He gave her a dry, cynical smile. "I am hoping sometimes they vill get it in a future day. Then perhaps they vill see."

* * *

The Second Task started out well—Hermione was asleep through that part. But it was all downhill from the moment she woke up. It was a bit unpleasant to wake up immersed in a _very_ cold lake, but finding Viktor's arms around her as he swam her easily to shore made up for it. Once they arrived, they were bundled into warm, charmed blankets and fed Pepper-Up Potion, followed by hot chocolate while they sat to wait for the others. Cedric was already there, curled up under blankets with Cho, so Hermione and Viktor saw no reason not to do the same.

"I didn't see," she said through chattering teeth to Viktor. "How did you do it?"

"Partial Transfiguration," he said proudly, and Hermione clapped her hands. "I vas half of a shark."

"I knew you'd figure that subject out," she laughed, and they curled up against each other again.

Viktor was rubbing her hands to warm them up (unseen under their blankets), then said quietly, "I have never met anyone like you before, Herm-own-ninny." Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"I mean…I have not…felt this vay…for anyone. Any other girl." Hermione felt blood rushing into her chilled face. Viktor dropped his eyes, then visibly forced himself to look at her again and went on, "I vished to ask you, vould you visit me this summer? In Bulgaria? I have some time myself before Quidditch season begins, and—"

A commotion caught their attention, they scrambled up to see several wizards dragging Fleur bodily out of the water. She was bleeding—they could see it from there—and fighting them, hysterically babbling something in French. "What happened?" Cho cried.

Cedric narrowed his eyes as he listened, then hissed in alarm. "Grindylows. She couldn't get to the bottom—lord, it's her sister. Her hostage."

"Ohh," Hermione covered her mouth. She looked from Cedric to Viktor. "Did either of you see Harry?"

"He vos there already when I arrived," Viktor assured her. "He helped me free you." He looked puzzled. "His hostage vas Ron Veasley, but he vas trying to get you up also."

"He is my friend," she pointed out, and Viktor nodded, shrugging.

"He vill be coming, then, now that you haff gone." The cold wasn't bothering him as much as the others, though he didn't seem to enjoy being wet. They hunkered down under the blankets again and watched sympathetically as Madame Maxime tried to calm Fleur down. Hermione knew some French, but Fleur was talking too fast. Cedric apparently spoke it well enough and muttered translations to them, which was mostly Fleur's pleading and demanding to return to the water.

"The time's already up," said Cho.

Hermione glanced at the clock and felt the first twinges of alarm running through her. "Why wasn't Harry right behind you?" she whispered to Viktor, and he pulled her closer.

"He had made gills. He vill be safe."

"Gills…" she frowned. "I'm glad he figured something out, but how—oh! Gillyweed!" Her delight in knowing that Harry had come up with something began to diminish when he and Ron still didn't appear. She got up and started pacing, looking at Dumbledore and the other judges. "I wish they'd bloody _do_ something! They're almost a half-hour late! Gillyweed's effects don't last that long, and what about Ron and Fleur's sister?"

"Being under there asleep didn't bother us," said Cho. "They must have used a spell to keep us safe."

"Yes, but how long does it last?" Hermione wondered, furiously rubbing her cold hands. "I just want to know where they all _are_!"

Viktor got up and caught her arm. "They vill be fine, Herm-own-ninny—"

Just then, there was a terrific splash in the water, the crowd went wild, and Cedric and Cho jumped up again. Hermione whirled around, her heart in her throat, to see no less than three heads at the surface of the lake, paddling awkwardly to shore. "_Harry!_ Ron, Harry!"

She'd have charged right back into the water, but Percy ran right past her to meet them with Madam Pomfrey at his heels, and the two boys were helping the little girl in between them along, so they seemed all right. Fleur started fighting Madame Maxime again, shrieking for her sister.

Harry looked completely exhausted, and a little chagrinned as Madam Pomfrey bustled him over to the other champions. Hermione ran up to him, aware she was babbling like an idiot and unable to stop herself. Ron was laughing, teasing Harry about hauling up Fleur's little sister as well, and Hermione finally got it from them that Harry had actually been the first one there. Harry mumbled something about not wanting to leave anyone behind, and Hermione and Ron shook their heads at each other.

As it was, Harry wound up with second place, because the mer-chieftainess told Dumbledore what he'd done for Gabrielle Delacour. (Harry also got a kiss fromFleur for his trouble, and Hermione suspected that helped his bruised ego a bit. Ron got one as well, but still ribbed Harry for taking the song too seriously.)

"Honestly," she told Viktor later, when they were walking down by the lake. "Harry's too ruddy heroic for his own good sometimes. As if Dumbledore would have let anything happen to the hostages. We're his students!"

Viktor frowned at her. "Harry Potter is his student too, but he vas forced to be in the Tournament vhen Dumbledore knew he did not vish to enter. Perhaps he was right to vorry for you. Fleur was afraid also."

Startled, Hermione said, "But…Dumbledore would never…"

"It is true you know him more than I," said Viktor. "But I see Harry Potter is the famous student at Hogvarts, as I am at Durmstrang. I am not thinking Dumbledore is very like Karkaroff, but…I vonder if he vas not thinking of Harry Potter's safety vhen he let the Tournament go on."

"But the only way to protect Harry from competing would have been to cancel the whole thing," Hermione protested. "Then no one could compete; that wouldn't have been fair."

Viktor raised his eyebrows. "He could have forfeit. Not compete in the Tasks—lose each one for that. Ve thought this morning he had decided that, vhen he vas late arriving. Vhy did Dumbledore not do that? I am thinking Harry vould be glad not to compete."

Hermione had been slowing her steps, but now stopped altogether as the ugly implications of what Viktor was saying sank in. "I…" she stared at the dark water, remembering how exhausted and shaken Harry had seemed after the Task. "I can't believe…"

Viktor's eyes were dark and hard in the fading sunlight, with the look of someone very aware of what it meant to be exploited and used without concern. "Vere you not afraid, before each Task, for his safety? I am eighteen, Herm-own-ninny; I entered the Tournament of my free vill, and still I vas afraid. Students have died before; that is vhy it vas stopped. Vhy did Dumbledore not forfeit Hogvarts' other champion?"

"Maybe he didn't think of it!" Hermione said desperately. Viktor raised his eyebrows at her, and her heart sank; they both knew how unlikely _that_ was.

Viktor spoke gently, knowing what Hermione was feeling, but he made her face the crux of it all. "Even if Harry Potter vas hurt or vorse, it vould look better for Hogvarts than if he forfeited. Because he is celebrity. I am not thinking Dumbledore is bad as Karkaroff; I see he cares for his students. But I am thinking he cares for Hogvarts more."

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _The attraction between Hermione and Viktor continues to develop, but there are other, less pleasant things developing at Hogwarts, from schoolboy jealousies to dark conspiracies and murder plots. The Triwizard Tournament ends in tragedy and horror in Chapter Two: Falling!_

**Please don't forget to review!**


	2. Falling

**_A/N:_** _Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback on my first chapter! I was very nervous about handling this pairing and this genre, and I'm glad it's going over well even with those of you who normally sail other ships. Thanks for giving this one a chance!_

**_Canon Note:_** _It has been brought to my attention that while the language-based theory on Durmstrang's location/origin is sound, Viktor's description in the book of the grounds (quoted verbatim in Chapter One) suggests that Durmstrang is much further north than Germany. So while I am holding to the theory that it was at least founded by Germans and therefore German is its official language, the school is probably somewhere much further north._

_**Special Announcement:** Those of you who patronize the Online Wizarding Library (OWL, at owl dot tauri dot org) are reminded to nominate stories between now and January 15th for the 2005 OWL Awards. Voting will begin shortly thereafter, and uh...all my fics are on that site, in case you're wondering. (Wink!)_

**Chapter Two: Falling**

Soon after the Second Task came Rita Skeeter's latest piece of fiction. The whole thing would have been funny—even the hate mail—since Hermione was able to laugh at it, and once Viktor saw her reaction, he laughed it off too. But the envelopes full of curses and Potions, _that_ tore it. And even if Hermione could have forgiven Rita Skeeter for the boils, Harry had it even worse than she did.

"As if he hasn't got enough to worry about," she fumed to Viktor. "I've been trying to figure out how she overheard you at the Second Task, and Moody says she wouldn't be using an Invisibility Cloak; he'd have seen her."

"Invisibility Cloaks are very rare," Viktor said.

"Harry's got one," Hermione replied, shoving her Potions book away. "His father left it to him."

"Perhaps he should haff used it in the First Task," Viktor muttered.

"He wouldn't want to risk it that way, and we didn't think it'd work," she said absently. "Flying's his best strength anyway."

"Mm."

* * *

She later found out that Viktor hadn't been as persuaded by her assurances of the _lack_ of relationship with Harry as she'd thought. Shortly after the article appeared, Viktor actually hauled Harry into the Forbidden Forest to ask him about Hermione. And very nearly got himself killed doing it.

"Why couldn't you have asked _me_?" she demanded as soon as she caught him alone. "Do you not trust me?"

Fortunately, Viktor did look a bit ashamed of himself. "I do," he insisted. "I vas…I vondered if Harry vas as sure as you."

"We're _friends_, Viktor. Good friends, best friends, really. That's _all._"

"I know that," he said. "It is vhat Harry said also. And he vas not angry—but I vish ve had not separated vhen ve found Mr. Crouch."

He said that last bit with dry humor, and Hermione chuckled. "I should say it serves you right. If you _had_ to talk to Harry alone, you should have done it somewhere a little less dangerous than the Forest."

"I vill remember that." They laughed, and the tension dissolved.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt," she said quietly. "Your friends didn't know what had happened; they thought it might have been serious."

"I vas only Stunned," Viktor said. "But I have no doubt that Karkaroff is saying I vas almost murdered. He leaves me alone now only vhen he is making demands of your Ministry. He says it vas to stop me in the Third Task."

Hermione sighed. "I think it's more likely that it was to stop you from witnessing whatever happened to Mr. Crouch. Something very nasty is going on here. I wish it would end. I wish the whole Tournament would end. There's too much danger around already without adding to it with some ruddy contest."

"It vill be ended soon," he said. They were sitting on a windowsill in one of the upstairs corridors, and Viktor glanced around. "Haff you…you did not say if you vould visit me this summer."

Hermione winced. "Oh, I didn't, did I?" She could tell Viktor was trying not to look too anxious; his dark eyes were flashing from her to the window and back again. "I…I'd love to." Viktor's eyes widened, and she grinned sheepishly. "I really would."

Viktor opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he wound up just staring at her. It was strange how quiet the corridor was around them, as if every other person at Hogwarts was separated from this place by another dimension, and the only sound here was the breeze through the upper windows. But it was a comfortable sort of quiet. With every other boy she'd met, silences were awkward, spent with the mind racing for ways to fill them. Not so with Viktor. Or maybe it was just that his eyes had a way of making her forget to think about anything else.

She felt his hand on hers, and then…his other hand on her shoulder. Her heart started to pound; she might be a bit inexperienced, but she wasn't an idiot. It was obvious where this was going, and she wanted to, but…what if she was a bad kisser—

It didn't matter. _He_ wasn't.

* * *

Unfortunately, they wound up being late for dinner, and either someone had seen them or it was somehow _really _obvious, because although they weren't holding hands or anything when they came in, all the Durmstrangs and Gryffindors (except Ron) started to snicker, the Slytherins looked appalled, and several of the Hogwarts professors hid grins.

"How do they _know_?" she muttered at him through the side of her mouth.

"Sven and Katya always know vhen someone has been…" Viktor shrugged. "Hogvarts may be the same."

"Oh well, it's not as if Rita Skeeter hasn't dreamed up worse. Do you want to come sit with me at the Gryffindor table?" Hermione suggested.

Viktor smiled and started to say "yes," but then Karkaroff appeared in front of them. Viktor rocked back on his heels, eyes darkening with displeasure, and actually took Hermione's hand. Ignoring his student's defensive posture, Karkaroff gave Hermione one of his cold smiles.

"Forgive me, my dear Miss Granger, I must have a word with my champion. Come along to _our_ table," Karkaroff told Viktor, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Viktor looked ready to snap, but Hermione gave his arm a little squeeze and stepped away, shooting him a warning look. She did sympathize ("_my champion," my foot!_), but there was nothing to be gained by the two of them getting into a fight with Viktor's headmaster. Fortunately, Viktor relented and followed Karkaroff away. Hermione could hear Karkaroff talking to Viktor in German as they headed for the Durmstrang table, and the Durmstrang students nearest them were looking quite nervous.

"What's all that about?" Harry asked her as she sat down. (Ron was sulking.) "Has Karkaroff been reading Rita Skeeter?"

"Who knows," said Hermione, grabbing a meat pie with a scowl. "He seems to be afraid Viktor will let slip the school's location to me or something."

"Or something about his plans for the Third Task," Ron muttered.

"Viktor would no more do that than I would tell him about Harry's plans," Hermione said tightly. "We don't talk about the Tournament unless it's the Tasks already finished. He says you're a really good flier, by the way," she added, to Harry.

Harry blushed a little. "Yeah, he told me in the…Forest."

Hermione shoved her fork into her pie and pondered that conversation, wondering why Viktor would be worried about Harry. She liked Harry very much—loved him, in a way, but not anything like she felt about Viktor. Just now, he'd reminded her of Viktor, blushing or smiling shyly when he got a sincere compliment…on the other hand, he could be as melodramatic as Ron sometimes, albeit usually for better reasons. Viktor had many things about him that she, well, _wanted_ in a boy—good common sense, a little confidence, work ethic, and the ability to carry on an intelligent conversation about something _other _than Quidditch. Ironic, really, considering his chosen profession. Maybe Viktor needed a mental break from Quidditch in ways that Quidditch fans would never consider. Harry might be more like Viktor when he got older; Harry was really very sweet most of the time. Ron, well…for the life of her, she couldn't imagine him growing up, but when he wasn't being a complete prat, it was kind of endearing.

Ginny suddenly hissed, and leaned past Colin Creevy and Lavender Brown. "Hermione!"

Then Hermione heard a raised voice. She looked up: Viktor and Karkaroff were at the front of the Slytherin table, and the other students had made a rather large space for them to sit. Karkaroff was getting very agitated, still talking to Viktor in German and getting progressively louder. Viktor was paying stubborn attention to the food he kept slapping onto his plate, but he seemed to be trying to murder it rather than eat it. Hermione could guess what he was imagining stabbing his fork into, and out of all the times she'd seen him glowering, this was by far the darkest scowl she'd seen on his face.

Apparently, Harry thought so too. "Krum's really angry."

That was enough to cause Ron's curiosity to win out, and he too looked surreptitiously at the Slytherin table. Karkaroff, as usual, was doing most of the talking; Viktor was hardly giving more than a one-word answer when Karkaroff paused for breath. The Durmstrang Headmaster seemed to be trying very hard to persuade Viktor of something, and Viktor was equally determined to ignore it.

Then they all saw Karkaroff gesture toward Hermione. He faltered when he realized the Gryffindors were watching him, and Viktor briefly looked up, meeting Hermione's eyes for a moment before saying something dismissive to Karkaroff and returning to the mutilation of his pie. One of the Beauxbatons boys went casually past that end of the Slytherin table, then sat down hurriedly with Fleur, whispering eagerly. Fleur then got up and came over to the Gryffindor table, ostensibly to ask if they had any escargot left (even though the bowl at the Ravenclaw table was still quite full).

Hermione tilted her head toward Fleur as the girl leaned past her to take the bowl. "Karkaroff is saying zat Viktor is being distracted by you. 'e says you are too close to 'arry and zat Viktor must concentrate on ze Third Task. 'e is talking of loyalty to zeir school."

Ron whistled softly, and Hermione gave Fleur a brief smile as the Beauxbatons girl returned to her table to ponder what to do with that juicy bit of gossip—and all their escargot. At the Durmstrang table, Viktor finally paused from goring his food and spoke very tersely to Karkaroff, his eyes hard and his jaw tight. It was clear to all that Viktor had no intention of letting Karkaroff persuade him of anything.

And Karkaroff was just as determined to keep trying. He resumed talking, more rapidly, now gesticulating furiously, but Viktor shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth and turned his face away. His empty hand was clenched into a tight fist. Hermione sat very still.

Finally, Karkaroff grabbed Viktor's arm and attempted speak nose-to-nose to his rebellious student, and Viktor slammed down his fork so hard that the dishes rattled. The Great Hall went dead silent. Viktor wrenched away, shouting a couple of words at Karkaroff that made the other Durmstrangs gasp. Then he stood up, snapped out a few more heated statements to his Headmaster, and stalked from the Great Hall, his movements stiff and eyes flashing with anger.

Karkaroff watched him go in astonishment, then turned an accusing gaze on Hermione, clearly of the opinion that this was all her fault. Hermione could feel the gaze of everyone else in the room on her as well.

* * *

The next day started badly and only got worse. It was the day of the Third Task, and began with Rita Skeeter's most disgustingly libelous article yet. Hermione hadn't been able to find Viktor after dinner, which bothered her because she knew he must be terribly upset.

Alexiev had told Alicia essentially what Fleur had already told Hermione: Karkaroff had never liked Viktor going out with Hermione and finally demanded that Viktor stay away from her, appealing most descriptively to everything from Viktor's school loyalty to his Quidditch team spirit to his work ethic to his sense of good competition strategy, and finally, to his blood pride. (Hermione hadn't even known Viktor was pureblood, not that she'd thought to ask.) That was reportedly when Viktor had told him to do the Bulgarian equivalent of "Shut up and sod off."

She did see Viktor in the Great Hall at breakfast, ignoring Karkaroff, and Karkaroff ignoring him. But the buzz that Skeeter's article about Harry was creating had her incredibly worried, and when she finally got to thinking that maybe "bugging" might literally be what Rita was up to, she knew she couldn't wait to confirm her theory. Who only knew the damage that might be done if Rita heard about Viktor's fight with Karkaroff about Hermione, or if she came up with something even worse to say about Harry.

She caught up with Harry and the Weasleys later—only to find out that Mrs. Weasley had halfway believed what that Skeeter creature had written about _her_. It made her want to scream. Fortunately, Harry saved her the trouble of having to explain yet again.

There was so much going on that Hermione couldn't find Viktor all morning, and worried that he'd decided she wasn't worth all the uproar after all. But after lunch, while Harry and the Weasleys were walking the grounds, Viktor appeared in the library.

Hermione, surrounded by books about Animagi, froze at the sight of him. He looked cross. She held her breath as he approached. "My parents are here," he said. "Vill you come to meet them?"

She got up so fast that her chair fell over, but as Viktor was helping her right it, she whispered, "Are you all right? I saw Karkaroff—"

"I do not care vhat he thinks," Viktor snapped. Then he sighed and suddenly looked tired. "I vill do what I vant and see who I vant." He took her arms as if about to kiss her or crush her against him, then paused, blushing, and Hermione smiled.

"Good," she said softly. Viktor glanced around to make sure no one could see them, then kissed her, softly and quickly, before taking her hand to lead her back upstairs. Not that anyone who saw them could doubt what they'd been up to; they were both blushing now.

Viktor's mother, Hermione had learned, was from a very old European wizard family who were almost equal to the Malfoys in wealth and status, and his father was a very respected wizard in Bulgaria as well. She suddenly remembered that one of Karkaroff's objections was her own Muggle blood, and got very nervous.

But although neither of Viktor's parents spoke English as well as he, they were very warm to her, and it was clear that if their son was happy, that was enough for them. "Viktor asked you for a visit to us, yes?" his mother asked.

"Yes," Hermione said shyly.

"You are velcome in the summer," Mr. Krum said, and Hermione saw Viktor relaxing as well.

"Thank you for having me," she told them, and grinned past them at Viktor.

"You are friend of Harry Potter, Her-my-oh-nee?" his mother went on. (Hermione saw Viktor mouthing the syllables again to himself out of the corner of her eye.) A little warily, Hermione nodded, but Mrs. Krum said, "He is a brave boy. Very brave, very young. Viktor says he flies very vell."

"All the champions are brave," Hermione said. "The Tasks are very hard. I'll be glad when it's over."

Viktor and his father laughed, but his mother nodded in fervent agreement. "I am afraid vhen I hear vhat they must do. I vish luck for all of them."

"Vill you eat dinner vith us?" Mr. Krum asked, but Viktor shook his head.

"She vill support Harry in the Tournament. She cannot sit vith me before his Task. It is disloyalty." Hermione was startled, but saw a twinkle in his dark eyes and slyness to his smile as though he were winking at her. She grinned.

"That's another reason I'll be glad when it's over. Then we can say that everyone did well and sit at different tables without worrying about who's supporting who in the Tournament."

"Ve vill see you after, then," said Mrs. Krum as they reached the Great Hall.

They went through ahead of Hermione, and she caught Viktor's arm, knowing people could see but wanting to speak to him once more before the Third Task. "Good luck anyway," she whispered.

Viktor smiled, obviously more nervous about the Task than he was letting on. "Thank you." He grinned over his shoulder at her as he made for his table, and she for hers, and Hermione no longer cared if people were staring. She felt as if there were a warm glow around her.

"So you've met his parents," Ginny teased as she sat down. "Things are looking up! Why didn't you sit with them?"

"Because I'm supporting Harry in the Third Task," she replied, shooting Ron a challenging look. Mrs. Weasley and Bill looked approving. "Viktor knows it; he doesn't mind. Loyalty to my best friends comes first."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Thanks. I like Krum, actually," he told Mrs. Weasley and Bill. "Hope he does well. I bet he will."

"I told him I'll just be glad when it's over," Hermione sighed theatrically. "No more planning how to get you through the next Task without you getting burned or slashed or drowned."

"And no more of Amos tearing around the Ministry bragging about Cedric or ranting about H—" Mrs. Weasley broke off, but Harry shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. I should've thought to say something about Cedric to the reporters. Only fair."

"Think they'd have listened?" Ron said doubtfully.

Harry snorted. "Probably not. But I'd have tried."

Mrs. Weasley waved a hand dismissively and lowered her voice. "Amos has always been silly about Cedric; I can't really blame him, I suppose. Arthur's the same sometimes."

"Oh, and _you_ never get silly about us, Mum," Ginny drawled.

"Me? Never!" Mrs. Weasley said, and they all laughed. "Arthur is coming, by the way, Harry. He worked a little late so Amos could have the day off to spend it here with Cedric—perhaps I'd better remind Amos of _that_ if he starts up again!" she added. "He may not make it before you and the other champions have to get ready, but he'll be with us when you're back."

Hermione felt a lump in her throat at Harry's look of bewildered pleasure. He'd never had a family to cheer him on at anything before. Then Dumbledore announced that they had five minutes before heading for the stands to watch the Third Task, and called the champions out. She applauded very hard, along with the Weasleys and the other Gryffindors, when Harry got up and waved goodbye.

* * *

For the rest of her life, Hermione would always be wary of moments when she felt great anticipation for happiness and excitement. She would always feel a terrible fear that all the anticipation and excitement would be lost when something would suddenly go horribly wrong. She would never feel safe again expecting an experience to end in nothing but honest, innocent pleasure, laughter, and celebration.

Because, that was what she felt when piling into the stands with the Weasleys, only a few rows from the very front. The Hogwarts Music Society was playing a marching tune as the rest of the students and guests and judges and reporters gathered, dancing, cheering and chanting encouragement for their favorites, waving to each other in good-natured rivalry. Everyone was a little tired of being tense, she reasoned, and this was the end: there was no more "fraternizing with the enemy" to worry about, no accusations of sabotage or other nonsense, and all three schools seemed finally content to enjoy the real spirit of the Tournament.

Katya and Alexiev were shouting gleeful taunts at Alicia, and waved cheerfully at Hermione. (Katya shouted a taunt about Hermione's champion being the shortest, but Hermione just laughed—anyway, it happened to be true. Harry was smaller even than Fleur.) The twins were taking bets, as usual, but trying to do it out of sight of Mrs. Weasley, and then Mr. Weasley came scrambling down the steps to join them, out of breath.

"Have they started yet?"

"No, they're not even out front yet," said Ron, gesturing to the open space leading into the maze where the champions would take off.

"Whew!" Mr. Weasley pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow before taking in the rest of the chaos. "Ah, there's Helen," he said, pointing to Mrs. Diggory. "Where on Earth is Amos?"

"Probably still with Cedric," a seventh-year Hufflepuff told them. "The champions can have one family member with them, Mr. Bagman said."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. "One of us should have gone with Harry!"

"Oh well, nothing to be done now. Not to worry, we'll shower him with praise when it's over," Mr. Weasley assured her.

Mrs. Krum had spotted Mrs. Diggory just over one of the barriers between sections of the stands, and the two women were now talking like old friends. From Cedric's mother's expression, Hermione had a feeling she was just as nervous as Viktor's mother. Karkaroff was sitting in the stands next to Snape, looking disgruntled. Hermione quashed a wicked impulse to wave at him, and waved at Mrs. Krum instead, who spotted her and smiled.

Then the champions came out, and everyone went crazy. Hermione screamed so hard for Harry that her voice broke, and the Weasleys also made as much noise as they could. Harry did look very small compared to the other champions, but Hermione was relieved to see that he wasn't standing alone; Dumbledore was with him. But then Viktor's words about Dumbledore's use of Harry echoed in the back of her mind, and she shivered.

Ron patted her back. "He'll be fine. He's tougher than anybody thinks; we've all seen that."

"And after this, they'll all be done," she laughed. "I want Harry to win, but I don't think he'll feel that bad if he doesn't. Especially if Cedric wins."

"Oh, so you don't want _Vicky _as second choice?"

"Ronald," she growled, but Ron relented and pointed again.

"Think Mr. Diggory'll let go of Cedric before they start?" Amos Diggory couldn't seem to stop raising Cedric's arm to work up the crowd. Cedric looked a little sheepish, but let his dad carry on. At one point, Mr. Diggory shot a resentful look at Harry, and Cedric whispered sharply in his ear. Mr. Diggory blinked, but Cedric emphatically repeated what he'd said, and then Hermione felt a rush of warmth for Cedric as his father, looking chagrinned, mouthed what was unmistakably "good luck" to a startled Harry.

"Good show, Cedric!" said Mr. Weasley.

"Right-o," said one of the twins, and then they both cupped their hands and bellowed, "GOOD LUCK, CEDRIC!" When Cedric turned to look at them, they added, "Hope you come in a close second!"

Mrs. Weasley cuffed both of them, but Cedric laughed and shook his fist at them. Fleur had Gabrielle with her at the start, and the two of them were waving up at their parents. Viktor was with his father, and Hermione leaned forward and mouthed "good luck" to him. He smiled and gave her a little wave.

The band died down, Dumbledore patted Harry and went to announce the start of the Third Task. Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione in excitement, and she found herself giggling. Dumbledore was still giving instructions to the four champions when Filch set off the starting cannon early, and everyone burst out laughing. Even the champions chuckled nervously, and a rather sardonic Dumbledore sent them to the start. Gabrielle was peering into the maze with wide eyes, and Fleur was patting her reassuringly, Mr. Diggory enveloped Cedric in a bear hug, and Mr. Krum squeezed Viktor's shoulder before letting him go. Hermione was glad to see Professor Moody walking with Harry to his entrance.

All too quickly, the champions vanished into the maze, and the hedge closed up behind them. Madame Maxime escorted an apprehensive Gabrielle back up to her parents, and Amos Diggory ran up to join Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur! Glad you could make it!"

"We were afraid they were going to have to do an Unsticking Charm on you for Cedric to get into that maze, Amos!" Mr. Weasley laughed.

"Very funny," said Mr. Diggory, cuffing him. "You'd be the same if one of your boys was down there!"

"One of them _is_," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. Mr. Diggory looked startled, then shrugged sheepishly.

"Nice of you to come out for him. I'd better get back to Helen before she bites off the tips of her fingers."

"See you later, Amos!"

Professor Moody led a group of security wizards into the maze, and time began to drag by. "How long do you think it'll take one of them to find the Cup?" Ginny asked. At the top of the stands, people were on their toes, trying to see over the hedges as Moody returned awhile later to tell Dumbledore the patrols were all in position on the maze's edge.

"No way to know. The judges don't look worried," said Mr. Weasley. "Professor Moody placed the Cup—and he looks downright smug."

"Lord," groaned Ron. "Moody placed it; we'll be here all night!"

Dumbledore and Madame Maxime were sharing a flask of…something, and chatting with Ludo Bagman and Minister Fudge. Karkaroff was still sulking in the stands, and Snape was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Krum.

After another long stretch of waiting, while the people in the stands came up with sillier and sillier ways to distract themselves from the mounting tension, a cry went up from the upper seats. People began to point, and Hermione saw red sparks above the maze.

"Someone's out!" yelled Lee Jordan, and everyone was on their feet, staring as if they could figure out from the sparks alone which of the champions had given up.

Moody opened the hedge, shouted something at the security wizards, and they ran into the maze. Hermione watched with the others, practically hopping up and down with anxiety, then there was another shout from someone above them—and gasps of alarm. "What's going on? What do you see?" Bill shouted.

"They've got someone on a stretcher!"

Everyone leaned forward at that, and a few moments later, the patrolling wizards came out of the maze hovering a motionless form upon a stretcher between them, and the shadows of the hedges fell away, letting the light fall upon…

"_Viktor!_" Hermione cried, along with half of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons and the entire Durmstrang contingent. "Oh my god!"

Without thinking, she began shoving her way down the steps, and it was only when she reached the lowest level that she heard Dumbledore and Moody bellowing to keep the crowd under control. She spotted one section being opened to the ground and started for it, but the security wizards were fighting to hold everyone back, and Mr. and Mrs. Krum were also trying to get down. So, despite her heart being in her throat, she stopped and leaned over the section barrier, holding out her hand to help usher them down.

"Let his parents through!"

The Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students settled down, but the Durmstrangs were still pushing forward in alarm, and the security wizards were having trouble keeping them from storming into the clearing. Mr. Krum said something to his wife, and let her slip through the very small space the security wizards were able make for her. Mr. Krum anxiously tried to see past Viktor's frantic classmates, then saw Hermione, who was looking over the last barricade down at the crowd huddled in the clearing.

"Vhat do you see?"

Sven Poliakoff pushed through the crowd to stand beside Mr. Krum and started translating for Hermione. "He's unconscious. Madam Pomfrey's looking at him…she doesn't seem worried. I can't hear—now they're looking at his wand—maybe a spell backfired or something, I don't know. His mother's with him, Madam Pomfrey's talking to her—she's…she looks relieved. I think he's all right."

Moody had Viktor's wand and was muttering to Dumbledore, both of them frowning. Mrs. Krum had Viktor's head in her lap, as Madam Pomfrey went to speak to Dumbledore. Then she returned and performed a spell on Viktor. It looked like _Ennervate._

Viktor jerked into a sitting position with a shout, thrashing in complete panic, which set the crowd off again, and everyone began yelling at once. His mother grabbed for him, and he began babbling frantically in Bulgarian at her; it was clear that even she had no idea what he was talking about. The Durmstrangs nearest them in the stands were looking at each other in confusion.

Viktor scrambled to his feet, saw Moody, and began talking rapidly to him as well, but he was so rattled that he'd lost his English and wasn't much sense in Bulgarian either. "Calm down, son!" Hermione heard Moody saying as he grabbed Viktor's shoulders. "Calm DOWN! Get Karkaroff down here; my Bulgarian's not good."

"Igor, hurry up!" Snape shouted to where Karkaroff was hovering in the stands with the rest of the Durmstrang students, and they began making a path for him. Mr. Krum got down first, but his son only shook his head, gesturing to his wand in Dumbledore's hand and trying frantically to say something to the judges.

A few of the Ministry wizards were clustered around Dumbledore with grim faces, looking at the wand. Viktor glanced in Hermione's direction, and she was shaken to see that he was almost in tears.

Just then there were more shouts from within the maze, another entrance opened, and several patrol wizards came running out with Fleur among them. She was awake, but very upset. Madame Maxine rushed forward, and Fleur grabbed her, talking rapidly in French between furious sobs. One of the Hogwarts boys near Hermione was leaning over the edge of the stands, listening to them. "She's saying…someone Stunned her! A wizard in the maze…from behind!"

"The patrols are saying that wasn't any part of the Task. One of the other champions must've done it."

"They're sending the patrols back into the maze to find Potter and Diggory."

"I heard Moody say they'll all be transported back here if someone takes the Cup."

"But isn't attacking the other champions illegal?"

"Blimey, wonder if that's why they're on about Krum's wand!"

Hermione sucked in her breath and turned back toward Viktor, who was staring in shock at Fleur while confused patrols and judges ran back and forth. Snape had been knocked down while descending the last of the stairs and was looking fiercely at Dumbledore, clutching his left arm. Dumbledore's face had gone expressionless.

Meanwhile, Karkaroff seemed to have got himself lost coming down from the stands to translate for Viktor, and was nowhere in sight. Finally, Alexiev persuaded the security wizards and Snape to let him come down, and he grabbed Viktor by the shoulders, calming him down enough to talk. Dumbledore walked quickly over to them with the other judges, and Viktor was so distraught that he didn't even try to remember his English; he just let Alexiev translate for him.

The judges and Ministry wizards muttered amongst each other, but they and Viktor were too far away for anyone to decipher what they were saying. Then Hermione heard _Prior Incantato, _and several of the wizards hissed, but then fell silent again. Madame Maxime was watching, with her arms around Fleur, but a few moments later, the judges and Ministry wizards dispersed, and Dumbledore handed Viktor back his wand. Viktor squeezed his eyes closed and muttered something, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder, clearly consoling him. Then he turned to Fleur and Madame Maxime and shook his head.

"So it wasn't Viktor," Hermione breathed. Alexiev had an arm around him and was leading him back to his parents. Fleur's parents and a few of the Beauxbatons students had made it down from the stands and sat her down on the grass, rubbing her back and talking softly. One of the Beauxbatons girls went over to Alexiev, and they conferred for a few moments, then returned to their respective classmates looking even more confused.

Dumbledore strode across the clearing to Moody—who happened to be standing right below Hermione. Fudge followed. "Alastor, get Harry and Cedric back. Now."

"Dumbledore, you really think we should just—"

"Someone in that maze has attacked our two guest students, Cornelius. If it was Harry or Cedric, we must deal with that. If it was not one of them, then they are both in danger."

Moody nodded and began muttering an incantation, but abruptly stopped, grabbed Dumbledore by the arm, and whispered in his ear. Dumbledore's eyes widened, then closed, as if in terrible grief. "What now?" Moody hissed.

"We wait, and…hope for the best."

Ron pushed his way through the crowd to Hermione. "What's going on?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "Something's happened…Dumbledore told Moody to stop the Task and bring Harry and Cedric back, but he can't. They're still in there with whoever attacked Viktor and Fleur."

"They can't think one of those boys did that!" Mrs. Weasley gasped, coming to join them.

Bill peered past her. "I think Dumbledore and Moody know they wouldn't. So that means someone else did."

"That doesn't make me feel much better," Ron muttered.

Amos Diggory actually climbed over the barricade between the sections to talk with Mr. Weasley. Hermione could hear him saying, "Calm down, Amos, calm down. It's too soon to panic. Is Helen all right? Oh, good. No, no, it just sounds like one of Alastor's brilliant spell schemes has gone a bit wrong; the boys may have to walk all the way back here. Yes, I know—Amos, there are enough people down there already demanding answers; Dumbledore's sending more people in to find the boys. They'll be along. Sit down and don't panic."

"D'you think that's all it is?" Ron asked her nervously.

"I hope so," Hermione said.

Katya and Marcel, the Beauxbatons boy she'd gone to the Yule Ball with, came over to talk to Hermione. "Fleur was Stunned, and zey think Viktor was struck with ze Imperious Curse," Marcel whispered.

"He thinks he attacked someone in the maze," Katya added. "He cannot remember who. But he vas not the one who Stunned Fleur. They found the Cruciatus Curse in his vand."

Hermione gasped. "The Cruciatus…but if he didn't curse Fleur…lord, did he hit Harry or Cedric?"

"Shh!" Mrs. Weasley hissed, glancing in Mr. Diggory's direction. "They don't need to hear that."

"The maze vas full of illusions, Viktor and Fleur are saying," Katya said. "Perhaps one of the boys vas thinking they vere something else and tried to fight them?"

"If that's what happened, then it's not their fault," Ron said, encouraged.

Hermione glared into the clearing. "No, but if that's what happened, then Dumbledore better give Moody and whoever else designed this stupid Task what-for, because the champions were _not_ supposed to end up hexing each other!"

Katya nodded. "Viktor feels terrible. It vas not his fault, but he is very upset."

Just then there was a hiss in the air, a brief gust of wind, and two figures, one wearing red and the other wearing yellow, burst into existence in the center of the clearing, landing in an unwieldy pile of arms and legs with the Triwizard Cup beside them. A spontaneous roar of relief and joy went up from everyone's throat, including Hermione's, and Dumbledore and the judges went rushing forward before either Harry or Cedric could get to his feet.

"Who got it?" Amos Diggory was yelling (along with half the crowd). "Who got the Cup?"

"They both arrived together!"

"I wish those ruddy judges would move! I want to see!"

"Bet it was Cedric!"

"Bet it was Harry!"

The band had started up again, and for a moment, it seemed that everything would be all right…

Then Fleur screamed. The people in the lowest part of the stands fell silent in alarm; no one could see through the crowd in the clearing, but she could. The band was still playing, but something was wrong, the wizards in the clearing were all grim-faced, looking at each other in shock…

"What the hell's going on?"

Snape looked over his shoulder and made a sharp motion at Flitwick; the band fell silent, and Hermione could hear the murmur of voices. People were realizing now that all was not well and starting to push forward again. Fudge went stumbling to one of the other wizards by the stands.

"Keep everyone in their seats. A boy's just been killed."

It was as if someone had pressed a thousand tons of weight onto Hermione's chest; she grabbed for the nearest person to hang onto, straining, searching… _What's happened what's happened oh dear god no please no Harry what's happened…_

Then she heard it over the solemn murmuring of the other wizards…sobbing. A boy's voice, wracked with sobs as he tried to talk. Hermione's vision lost focus, and Ron looked at her with more horror in his face than she'd ever seen.

Harry never cried, her reeling mind told her. Not even over things that would have had Hermione and even Ron sobbing like babies if they'd been in Harry's shoes; they both thought it was because of growing up with the Dursleys that taught him not to cry…

_Harry doesn't cry._

But the boy down there was crying…

_No. NO…_

"I couldn' leave 'im there…" the boy was sobbing. "I couldn' leave him in that place!"

Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley were rushing down the stairs in panic. "Let me through!" Mr. Diggory was shouting. "Let me through!"

Mrs. Weasley was clinging to Hermione so tight she could barely breathe, and Bill was holding Ron. Hermione saw Fleur, kneeling on the grass, weeping into Madame Maxine's chest, and Viktor, looking at…her. His expression was stunned, and his eyes were red…he had seen who it was…

_Harry…_

_No…_

Then Mr. Diggory screamed, and Hermione and Mrs. Weasley clutched each other convulsively, as they all learned the truth from Amos Diggory himself. "My boy! _That's my boy!_"

The knot of huddled figures finally parted, and Hermione felt Mrs. Weasley begin to sob. She wasn't even aware that she herself was crying.

Harry was alive. But there was no room in any of their hearts for real joy or relief in that fact, only dazed, numb acknowledgement as they saw Amos Diggory collapsed upon Cedric, wailing. Mr. Weasley was trying to pull Mr. Diggory back, and Harry was sobbing so hard his whole body was shaking. Moody was trying to pull him back, whispering to him, but Harry was fighting, reaching out for Cedric. For his body. _Oh no, oh Cedric… _Cedric was dead. Moody finally had to drag Harry away, and Harry struggled with every step.

Mr. Weasley had finally pulled Amos Diggory away from his son's body, and Madam Pomfrey was gently bending over him—_oh god._ Hermione turned away to keep from being sick. This wasn't real…this couldn't be… Mrs. Weasley released her with one more squeezed and choked out, "I must get to Helen." She stumbled off up the stands.

Viktor was slack-faced, his tears glistening in the torchlight, and his parents were clutching him between them as though they feared he would disappear if they let go. Fleur's mother was holding Gabrielle to her, keeping the little girl's face turned away from the scene, and Mr. Delacour had Fleur in his arms, tears sliding down his face as he watched Mr. Diggory. Viktor's father released him to Mrs. Krum and walked over to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory, while Mrs. Krum steered Viktor gently out of the clearing.

Hermione mumbled to Ron and Bill, "We should go…find Harry. He must be…"

Ron shook his head, still in Bill's arms. "Yeah. He looked hurt."

"We'll get Ginny back to the school," said one of the twins, and they walked a dazed-looking Ginny toward the exit.

Hermione blundered against the barrier in the stands, glanced across it to the next section, and a teary-eyed Katya looked back at her. Impulsively, Hermione reached across and grasped her hand. Sven and Marcel were on either side of Katya, staring down at the clearing. Ron went a few steps further up the stands to two Hufflepuff boys he recognized as friends of Cedric, both of whom seemed to be in complete shock.

The initial chaos and hysteria had worn off, and now people were moving more slowly as a fog of disbelief settled over them. No mind could comprehend it, how so much laughter and joy and excitement had shattered into so much horror and grief and pain in so short a time. The sound of quiet sobbing was everywhere. Hermione too was still crying softly; it seemed natural at the moment, like breathing, and it did not seem ready to stop, not that she really noticed.

"Who vould do such a thing?" Sven whispered.

"I don't know," Hermione murmured.

Katya wiped her face. "Is Harry Potter badly hurt?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure. I have to go find out; are you going to go see Viktor?" Katya and Sven nodded. "I have to find Harry, but tell him…tell him I'll be there soon, if he wants…"

"He vill vant to see you," Sven said firmly. "He vill understand. I hope that Harry is all right."

Hermione fought back another wrenching sob that tried to force its way out of her chest. "Me too," she said, and hurried up the steps.

* * *

A few hours later, when Hermione and the Weasleys had learned the horrific facts of what had happened, she nearly smashed Rita Skeeter with her bare hands. She caught Skeeter on the hospital wing windowsill, buzzing around like the parasitic insect she was; no doubt planning her next slanderous, unashamedly hurtful article for the _Daily Prophet._ Well, if Hermione could do nothing else for Harry and the other stricken champions…and Cedric…she'd make certain _that_ kind of article would never escape Rita's quill.

It had been Moody—or rather, the man who was posing as Moody all year long. Barty Crouch, Jr., as it turned out. He'd dragged the stunned, wounded Harry back to the castle on the pretense of looking after him, but intended to finish what Voldemort had started in a graveyard in Little Hangleton.

_Voldemort_. The Triwizard Cup had been made into a portkey, and Moody—or rather, Crouch—had gone into the maze to take out the other three champions so Harry would reach it first. It was he who had Stunned Fleur, and used the Imperious on Viktor to make him attack Cedric. But Cedric had been saved by Harry, and the two of them had wound up reaching the Cup at the exact same time.

Harry's leg had been injured by an Engorged spider, and Cedric could have got to the Cup first, but he'd refused to take it, because of all Harry had done for him (the spider would have taken Cedric out, but for Harry's intervention.) But Harry too had refused, and finally suggested that they both take it together.

Cedric, poor, sweet, handsome, _innocent_ Cedric, had been of no use to Voldemort. A "spare," he had been called, according to Harry. Peter Pettigrew had killed him without a thought. Then he'd trapped Harry against the tomb of Voldemort's father, and used Harry's blood to resurrect Voldemort. Harry had managed to escape during a duel in which Voldemort had intended to kill him—the circumstances were still fuzzy to Hermione, and, she suspected, to Harry as well—and brought Cedric's body with him when he retrieved the Cup.

Crouch, posing as Moody, had tried to finish the job back at the castle, but Dumbledore had figured out at last who the culprit was and stopped him in time.

Harry was devastated: wounded, frightened, grieving, and in shock. Hermione and Ron spent the whole night with him in the hospital wing. She considered many times going to find Viktor, but couldn't bear to leave Harry now, even while Ron was with him.

* * *

In the end, Viktor came to find her instead. It was very early the following morning; Ron was dozing in a chair with his head resting on the edge of Harry's bed, and Hermione was watching them both. Harry had looked so awful when Dumbledore brought him in; his green eyes had such a hollow look to them, as if a part of his soul had been cut out. She had a bitter, miserable feeling that he would never lose that haunted look. The year had been hard enough on him leading up to this. Would the nightmares ever end for him now?

She was jolted out of her unhappy thoughts by footsteps coming into the hospital wing. She assumed it was Madam Pomfrey or maybe Mrs. Weasley coming to check on Harry, so it was a bit of a shock to her when Viktor peered around the screen.

For a moment, she just sat there stupidly, staring at him. Viktor didn't look as if he'd slept a wink last night either. He looked from her to the bed, regarding the sleeping Harry with his dark eyes, eyes that were suddenly so sad that Hermione jumped up and went to him. He took her hand—grabbed it, actually—but glanced at Harry again and ushered her down the wing so as not to wake him.

"How is he?" he asked quietly. "They say he vas badly hurt?"

"Madam Pomfrey treated his injuries," she sighed. "But he's, well…he saw Cedric killed." She knew in the back of her mind that she should be careful of what she said, even to Viktor, and that she would have to be very careful from here on out. "He couldn't stop it, and they meant to kill him too…" she shook her head. "I don't know how long it will be for him to recover." She rubbed her aching, gritty eyes. "How are you?"

Viktor shrugged and quickly looked away. "I have never seen such a thing as last night. I vill never forget. Nor vill my friends; ve did not sleep. Ve vere not able to."

"Me either." Hermione sat down on one of the beds, too tired to stand up. "What will happen now that Karkaroff is gone?"

"A new Headmaster vill come, I am thinking," Viktor replied, sitting down beside her. He put his arm around her, but it was not the initiation of anything romantic, just a comfort for himself as much as for her. She leaned against him. "Ve do not know vhy he fled." He sat up suddenly and looked at her. "Herm-own-ninny…I know Dumbledore vill have wanted you to say nothing of vhat happened…but ve are anxious to know. Vas Karkaroff involved in Cedric's killing?"

_Oh._ Lord, she hadn't realized that with everything kept so secretive, Karkaroff's disappearance might be assumed as connected to Cedric's murder. And by extension, his students would be suspected. She bit her lip, wondering what to do, whether she dared say anything without asking permission first… "I don't know for sure," she said slowly. "But…I don't think so." Lowering her voice, she added, "They don't want us to speak about it at all until they know exactly what happened—Harry has only been able to tell it all once, and he's, well…you know." Viktor nodded. "So I can only tell you that from what I've overheard, it sounds like he was not involved at all. I think he ran because he was afraid Cedric's killers might come after him."

She might have said too much there, but…what was done was done. Viktor nodded again, understanding her reservations, and did not press her for more. "Vill ve be blamed, do you think?"

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and waited until he met her eyes. "Not by anyone with sense. Only idiots believe in guilt by association. I'm certain Dumbledore knows better."

Viktor looked doubtful, but did not avoid her gaze. "I hope you are right."

* * *

She was. Dumbledore's speech a week later proved that. There were some students who distanced themselves as much as possible from the Durmstrang students—often the same ones who avoided Harry because they'd believed Rita Skeeter's nonsense—but the Headmaster's warmth to them eased the worst of their fears.

Viktor pulled her aside while they were waiting for the carriages to Hogsmeade Station, and gave her his address. "Vrite to me," he said quietly.

"I will. I promise," she whispered.

"Headmaster Dumbledore spoke to me just now. He said that because Lord…because _he_ is returned, it may not be safe for Muggleborn vitches and vizards to travel."

Hermione scowled. "He hasn't told _me_ that yet."

"You still vish to come this summer?" Hermione nodded, and Viktor looked torn between gratification and worry. "I am glad, but…take care. I know some do not believe vhat Dumbledore says about _his_ return, but I do. Ve must all take care now."

"I'll write no matter what," she whispered. "And we'll just have to…wait and see what happens."

"Vhat do you think vill happen?"

Her chest tightened. It always did when she tried to imagine what this year's events would mean for her, for Harry, for Hogwarts and the whole wizarding world. "I don't know. There was a war before. There probably will be again." Viktor looked somewhat ill at the thought—not surprising, since she felt the same way whenever she thought about it—so she said, "But Hagrid says what will come will come, and we'll just have to meet it. I guess it's important to remember that."

"That is good advice," Viktor agreed. "Ve cannot know vhat vill come. Ve have met not only bad things this year. I have met very good things." He gave her that same shy smile that she remembered from that first day in the library—and her heart reacted just as it had then.

With that silent look between them, like a promise that there would be good things to come to balance out the bad, they turned together and went back to meet Ron and Harry.

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _We follow the fates of our hero and heroine through two years as the wizarding world slides into chaos, and Hermione and Viktor must each face the dangers that their position in that world brings in Chapter Three: Letters From The Front Lines!_

**PLEEEEEASE** **don't forget to review! Feed a starving fanwriter!**

**Oh, and have I mentioned that my birthday is next week, January 19th? I'm turning 25. You know what I want for my presents!**


	3. Letters From The Front Lines

_**A/N: **Happy birthday to me, to my friend Dan, and Edgar Allen Poe this 19th of January! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and birthday wishes! To celebrate, here is your update! Oh, and some of you my recognize American wizarding Congresswoman Kate Leland from "Battle of Wills." For those who don't, she is based on a real person, with much affection and admiration, from my time working on Capitol Hill._

**_Announcement/Schmooze:_** _Voting is now open in the 2005 OWL Awards at owl dot tauri dot org! Please register and vote! My stories "Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills," "Duel," "Dumbledore's Men," "Legilimens," and "Offensive Magic" are all in the running in various categories! Mum's stories "Tea & Sympathy" and "Blanket" are also up! _

**Chapter Three:** **Letters From The Front Lines**

_Dear Viktor,_

_I'm sorry to have bad news in my first letter. I have spoken to Professor Dumbledore, and other people who know what's going on, and they say it is much too dangerous for me to travel to Bulgaria. I am very sorry. I was looking forward to visiting you very much, and I hope soon this will all be over, and that we'll see each other again._

_I do miss you. The Ministry here hasn't said a word about Voldemort—they're denying that he is back. I can't believe it. They are such fools! They're actually saying that Dumbledore is senile and that Harry can't be trusted—that Harry is crazy! The _Daily Prophet _is saying horrible things about Harry. Dumbledore was right that to deny it is an insult to Cedric's memory. How many more innocent people have to die before they will admit the truth?_

_Sorry to be so angry. Everyone who knows the truth is afraid. I am spending the summer in a place Dumbledore thinks is safer than home for me. The Weasleys are here, but Harry isn't yet. I can't say much, you understand. _

_How are you? Is Quidditch season starting soon? Good luck with it. Ron and his brothers were talking about the World Cup the other day, and I was thinking about you. That was the first time I saw you, but even then I could see that you loved to fly. I didn't understand it, though, until you explained it at the Yule Ball._

_I hope you can write back to me soon. If you send the owl to Hogwarts, they will know where to find me._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I had feared you would not be able to come after what happened this year, and I understand. I will miss you this summer very much, but it is better that you are safe. I too hope this will soon be over._

_There are questions here about Voldemort, but our Ministry is listening to what the British Ministry says, that he is not back. They too fear to say his name. I always did, but I saw that you were not afraid, and I thought that I should not be. It was hard at first, but now I can say it, and it does not hurt me. It seems very silly now to be afraid of a name._

_We have started practicing for the Quidditch season, and the training goes well. I have told my team companions that Voldemort is returned. I think some of them do believe me, but the others are not sure. They believe what the Ministries in your country and mine have said about Dumbledore and Harry. I have sent for the _Daily Prophet _and read what they say. They are terrible lies about Harry. He is not mad and he is not seeking fame. I am thinking I should tell the newspapers here that, because I saw Harry much at Hogwarts. Perhaps they will listen._

_You are right to be angry. I was very angry when Minister Fudge called Cedric's death an accident. It is a terrible lie and an insult, as you say. My mother and father believe Dumbledore, and we are telling everyone that we can. They ask me to give you their good wishes._

_I have received my final marks from Durmstrang, and it is now finished, so I may sign a full contract with the national Quidditch team. I am happy for that. I am happy when I am flying now more than before. I am feeling that I can fly away from all these troubles. There has been no news of Karkaroff. I did not like him ever, and I was very angry when we learned he was a Death Eater, but I do not know that I should wish him dead. Those who know Voldemort is returned say that Karkaroff will be killed for giving up names._

_I pray that you, Harry, and all your families are safe. If there is anything I am able to do that will help, tell me, and I will do it. Please write back to me. I worry for the safety of all in England._

_With best wishes,_

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_You won't believe what's happened! Someone sent two Dementors after Harry. They nearly got him and his cousin! Harry is very good at the Patronus Charm and was able to stop them, but now the Ministry is trying to expel him for using magic underage! He got here yesterday (I can't tell you where, but it is our safe house), and he's very angry at us all. Ron and I feel awful, but we couldn't tell him anything in letters about what was going on; it wasn't safe! But I'm trying to be understanding; he's very upset. His hearing at the Ministry is coming up soon. He can't be expelled for defending himself, we're sure of that, but it's still awful._

_I asked some people here if they thought it would help if you talked to the papers in Bulgaria. They said yes. Anything that you can say to your Ministry and your public would help, but be careful: our Ministry is printing worse lies about Harry and Dumbledore every day. They may try to lie about you. I don't want you to get hurt, so please be very careful._

_Congratulations on signing with your team! It was in the papers here. I wish we could see you play again, but I doubt it will be possible this year. Ron says that Bulgaria's first match is against Italy next week. I don't know if this letter will reach you in time, but good luck from all of us. (The boys say not to get your nose broken again.)_

_Write back soon._

_Sincerely, _

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Hermione_

_I received your letter the day before the match, and thank you for your good luck. We won by 85 points. You may tell the boys that I did not break my nose this time. I broke my collar bone, but it is healed well. _

_I spoke to a man at our Ministry, and he says he has learned from your Ministry that Harry was not expelled? I hope this is true; please tell me when you write again._

_I am speaking to reporters of the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's death tomorrow. I will tell them all I know, that Dumbledore is telling the truth, and Harry is not mad or seeking glory. I will tell them what I know of him from the Tournament, that he did not enter himself and did not want to compete. I will tell them that the British Ministry is lying about Harry and Dumbledore, and warn that they may lie against me also. My father tells me that Britain's Ludo Bagman was believed when he came before the Ministry after the last war. He says that the British believe much from Quidditch players. I hope you are not offended, but I hope that this is true. If it is, then perhaps they will believe me._

_How soon are you to return to Hogwarts? This year is your Ordinary Level Examinations, yes? I have no doubt you will do very well. You are the most intelligent person I have ever met. I hope this year will be happier for you than the last, and that you are safe at Hogwarts._

_With good wishes,_

_Viktor._

* * *

_Mum,_

_This article from Bulgaria just hit the papers here in Romania; I've had it translated. Looks like you and the old crowd have a formidable ally over there in Bulgaria! The Romanian Magical Council is in uproar. They're talking of sending someone from their Embassy to speak to Dumbledore!_

_Love,_

_Charlie_

**National Quidditch Seeker Krum Warns He Who Must Not Be Named Is Back!**

Bulgaria's athletic pride, Viktor Krum, 18, has urged the wizarding public to heed the warnings of British warlock Albus Dumbledore that He Who Must Not Be Named, one of the most powerful dark sorcerers in wizarding history, has returned.

Krum spent his final school year with Durmstrang classmates as a guest at Dumbledore's school, Hogwarts in Britain, along with students from French Beauxbatons Academy for the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament had troubles as soon as it began, when an unexpected fourth champion was named, 14-year-old Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived, who is credited with the demise of the same Dark Lord.

The British Ministry has denied Dumbledore's reports of He Who Must Not Be Named's return, attributing the claim to senility, and alleges that Harry Potter, who claims to have witnessed the return, is either insane or seeking further public attention. Viktor Krum, in a press conference with every wizarding newspaper in Bulgaria, made a heated condemnation of the denials.

"I spent much time with Harry Potter in the tournament. He was forced to enter by a servant of Lord V, and I have no doubts whatsoever from what I saw of him that he was entered against his will. He is a good, honest boy who did not seek public attention and does not enjoy it. He faced Lord V with great courage and saw our fellow champion, Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, murdered before his eyes. Cedric too was a kind and good person, and the British Ministry and newspapers insult his memory by claiming that his death was an accident."

The British Ministry has refused all requests for comment or response by Bulgaria's news reporters, which adds to speculation among Bulgarians that there is indeed something being hidden. Krum ended his conference with an impassioned plea to his countrymen:

"We must stand against the evil that Lord V represents. Headmaster Dumbledore said in memory of Cedric Diggory, we are strong as we are united. Speak out to the people of wizarding Britain, warn them not to turn their backs to the truth. I was a guest at Hogwarts in the spirit of international magical cooperation, and I speak to you now in the hope of keeping that spirit alive."

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_I don't know what to say except thank you so very, very much for what you told the reporters in Bulgaria! We haven't been able to get a copy of your papers here, but when we do, we're going to hang them on the wall! Ron's brother, Charlie Weasley, is still working in Romania (you remember him, he brought the dragons for the First Task), and he sent a translated copy from one of their newspapers. Many of us cried when we read it. I must admit that I did. It has been so hard being here with the Ministry denying everything and the _Daily Prophet _mocking Dumbledore and Harry, that the feeling of reading what you said for us was truly wonderful. Thank you!_

_Harry did get off, but it was close. They changed the time and the location of the hearing to try and stop him from being able to defend himself. Dumbledore came, thank goodness, and convinced them he was telling the truth about the Dementors. He's still very moody and upset about everything; I suppose we can't blame him, even if he has such a temper these days!_

_Ron and I have been made Gryffindor prefects. His mother got him a new broomstick as a present for it. (Honestly, I was surprised that it wasn't Harry, and I think Harry was a little disappointed, but then again, Harry has enough to worry about. But don't tell anyone I told you that.) We will have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher again this year. No one knows who yet, but we're hoping this will be the first one who doesn't try to kill Harry. I guess that's not very funny, but it's not a joke either: he's been attacked by one every year! (Well, third year, it wasn't on purpose, but you see what I mean.)_

_By the time you get this, you will probably have already played the match against Ireland. Best of luck. (Your team could have your revenge if you beat them this year, but PLEASE do not tell any of the Weasleys I said that! They all still love Ireland's team.)_

_Write back soon, and thank you again._

_Gratefully, _

_Hermione._

* * *

**Owl of the Outback  
**_Australia's best source of wizarding news…_

**The Triwizard Tragedy: What Is The British Ministry Hiding?**

A passionate and angry statement to international press by former Triwizard hopeful and international Quidditch star Viktor Krum has added fuel to the fire of questions worldwide about the British Ministry for Magic's shaky explanation of the tragic events that ended the rebirth of the Triwizard Tournament.

The Tournament was plagued with unexplained problems from the beginning with the shocking entry of 14-year-old Harry Potter, also known as the Boy Who Lived. Famed for his role in the death of Lord YKW in 1981, young Potter's unexpected (and according to multiple sources, unwilling) inclusion in the extremely dangerous tournament was a frightening event on the heels of a Death Eater attack and the Dark Mark's appearance at the Quidditch World Cup in which Viktor Krum played.

The Ministry has vehemently denied the claims of Harry Potter and Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, one of the wizarding world's most acclaimed sorcerers, that Lord YKW has returned, blaming everything from Dumbledore's alleged senility to Potter's alleged pathological desire for public acclaim (the latter according to British tabloid columnist Rita Skeeter). However, a more disturbing response from the Ministry has begun after Viktor Krum's statements to the Bulgarian press in August:

The Bulgarian Magical Embassy to Britain has been forcibly closed.

Bulgaria's ambassadors have been deported.

All Bulgarian newspapers and any other foreign papers that carry Krum's statements have been banned from the entire United Kingdom, from both commercial and private parties.

The British Wizarding Wireless Network has been threatened with loss of its license if any broadcasts are made of news events which repeat Dumbledore's claims, or any events in which Viktor Krum may speak live, such as pre and post-Quidditch game interviews.

The Triwizard Tournament's progress remained dogged by the disappearance of Ministry official Bartemius Crouch, unexplained injuries to Krum and Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour, and culminated in the tragic death of Hogwarts's other champion, 17-year-old Cedric Diggory. Harry Potter, who reportedly witnessed the murder, arrived at the end of the Tournament clinging to Diggory's body and the Triwizard Cup, which was discovered to be a portkey that transported the winners somewhere outside of Hogwarts. Potter is reported to have suffered multiple injuries that night, and was attacked yet again by Azkaban Prison escapee Bartemius Crouch, Jr., who had been masquerading the entire year as Defense Professor Alastor Moody.

Viktor Krum, whose public statements even at major Quidditch games have been limited until now, has become an increasingly strong and compelling voice demanding answers from the United Kingdom, invoking the spirit of international magical co-operation which the Ministry claims to value, and the name and memory of his late competitor.

* * *

**The San Francisco Siren  
**_Bringing magical news to California since 1849…_

**International Quidditch Star Warns of Cover-Up of You Know Who's Return!**

Following a decisive win against the United States Quidditch team, Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum met with American and Canadian officials in public to discuss the alleged return to power of the dark wizard who set off the most violent magical war in over a century. Although the officials—all of whom had been ticket-carrying spectators at today's match—voiced some skepticism going into the meeting, Krum surprised fans and press alike with an well-spoken and very alarming statement of his case.

"I'm a huge fan of his," said wizarding Senator Gill Shelton, "but I'm a little leery of talking national defense and foreign relations with an athlete. I didn't expect him to know what he was talking about."

Congresswoman Kate Leland, chairwitch of the House Magical Defense Committee, told the _Siren_, "Lots of celebrities who want to weigh in on issues that aren't their business try to claim they're experts. But Viktor Krum came to us as a witness. I think everyone was thrown by what he had to say, and that it merits some serious consideration."

Krum spoke in detail to the group about his experiences at Hogwarts during the beleaguered Triwizard Tournament, including his interactions with fellow champion Harry Potter, and the tragic end of the Third Task. He was especially vocal in his defense of Harry Potter, who has been reported by some British papers as a spoiled attention-seeker and even mentally unstable.

"He is none of those things. I came to admire him very much for how strongly he faced everything during the Tournament and afterward. He was brave and cares very much for others, even people he has never met. He avoided public attention; he did not seek it, and he is certainly not mad."

Multiple members of the international wizarding community are already calling for explanations from the wizarding U.K.'s increasingly-tight control of internal and external communications. Foreign wizards report of owls being intercepted and mail confiscated, which would be a violation of the International Magical Rights Treaty if proven true, and several embassies have been closed and their ambassadors deported with little or no explanation, except that all countries with whom relations have been cut off are those who have openly accepted as true the claims of You Know Who's return.

* * *

_Viktor,_

_Thank you for the bracelet. I didn't know you knew when my birthday was! I saw your birthday announced in the paper; I'm sorry I didn't know sooner, but happy 19th birthday, and I've sent your present with this letter. I hope you like it. The singing stones are beautiful; they remind me of the merpeople. My dormitory-mates and I sat listening to it for hours, and it even knows not to sing during classes, but then it turns different colors._

_We're about three weeks into our fifth year, and things are very, well, "interesting," for lack of a better description. Our new Defense professor is from the Ministry, Professor Umbridge. Her approach is a bit different from what we're used to, but I expect we'll adjust. She gave a very interesting talk at the Welcome Feast, about how progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, and that the Ministry will be pruning practices that should be prohibited. It gave us all some very important things to think about, don't you agree?_

_Harry is struggling a little in Defense, but I don't think it's his skills at magic that are the problem. He's been speaking out of turn, you know, and saying things that the Professor does not want discussed in the classroom—we've all told him to watch what he says, but you know how he is._

_I'm afraid I haven't been able to find out how the rest of your Quidditch season is going; there seems to be a problem with getting certain newspapers here that report it, and the Wizarding Wireless Network is not broadcasting the international games anymore. What a shame. But my friends Fred and George Weasley still have the pre-season schedule, so if nothing as changed, then you should be playing Norway next week. Good luck from all of us._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_There appears to have been a problem in the mail delivery; it looked as if your letter and package had been opened. Perhaps someone misread the address._

_I am glad that you liked your bracelet, and thank you for the book. I have read on the principles of physics in broomstick flight before, but this new book has some very good information. My team's Chasers and Beaters have asked to borrow it. We are thinking the principles will be useful to develop some new drills. I fear we lost the match with Norway, and the match with Japan has been moved to next month._

_Your new Defense professor does seem quite interesting. Perhaps it would be wise of Harry to learn when are the best times to speak. I am right that she is Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to Cornelius Fudge? That is a very prestigious person to teach at a school. The Ministry must think it is very important. I agree that her speech to you was very interesting. Perhaps I will talk to some friends about it._

_I am thinking that some of our letters to each other may be lost in the future if the mail becomes unreliable. I will continue to write to you, and hope you will to me, and perhaps some of our letters will get through. Please give my best wishes to Harry and all your friends._

_Very truly yours,_

_Viktor_

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_There do seem to be some problems with mail delivery lately; your letter to me was opened too. I'll also keep writing to you and hope for the best. Harry's owl, Hedwig—you may have seen her, she's a very pretty snowy owl—was attacked recently while delivering a letter. She's all right, but we were worried._

_Ron has been made Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He's very nervous about the first match, but he seems to have very good skill. He only needs a little confidence, we tell him. He and Harry say to tell you good luck against Japan, and Ron has heard that you have been short-listed for the European Quodpot Team for the tournament against the United States. Will you take the position if they offer it?_

_There are many things I am worried about, but not much else that we can talk in letters about these days. I hope you and your family are well, and that everything will stay well if we lose contact. I will be thinking of you._

_Affectionately,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_It seemed to take your letter much time to reach me. That is very strange. I am glad that Harry's owl was not badly hurt. You may tell Ron that I did not take the European Quodpot Team position; it would require me to miss a large part of next year's season with Bulgaria, which I do not wish to do. I am hearing that Ireland's Aidan Lynch will be next to be offered the Seeker position, and that he will accept. I remember that Ron supports Ireland, so I am thinking he will be happy to hear that. Please thank him and Harry for their good wishes at the games. We won the matches with Japan and New Zealand, and there is a match in two weeks against Brazil before we are released for the holidays. The season will resume in January._

_I am wishing good luck to Ron and Harry with their Quidditch season. There is a mid-season interview for our team soon, and I will be discussing many things with the reporters. (You may tell Ron that I am not longer nervous for Quidditch, but still I am nervous before interviews.)_

_If this letter takes long to reach you, I wish you and your family a happy Christmas._

_Yours,_

_Viktor_

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am remembering that you said you would continue to write, so I fear that either my last letter did not reach you, or your response has not yet reached me. I hope all is well with you._

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I have sent this letter to the home of the Weasleys rather than to Hogwarts in the hope of reaching you. I am reading of the Ministry's education reforms and what Professor Umbridge means to do as Hogwarts High Inquisitor. Those are interesting actions they are taking._

_We won the match against Brazil, and my interviews went well. I have also written letters to the newspapers in South America, and they are eager to publish them._

_I hope that you are able to write back soon._

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_I haven't received any letters from you in quite awhile, but I doubt it's because you haven't been writing. We are on holidays now from Hogwarts (thank heavens), and I hope this letter will get to you. Things are awful here. I still had better not say too much, but I suspect you know more about what's going on here than we do about what's going on in the rest of the world. _

_Professor Umbridge is conducting "inspections" of all the teachers, so there are lots of things they can't talk to us about either. To make matters worse, Harry and the Weasley twins got into a fight with Draco Malfoy after the first Quidditch match, and she banned all three of them from the team. Poor Ron is having a terrible time with practices without them, and Harry practically lives in detention—and I have to say, I do NOT like what is going on in those detentions._

_Ron's father was attacked by a giant snake right before the holidays started and was nearly killed. He will be all right, but he's still in the hospital. This is truly turning into an utterly rotten year. Harry is constantly losing his temper, all our parents are worried sick, everyone at school is wondering who or what is going to be banned by the "High Inquisitor" next. And on top of it all—well, you know what the worst of it is. _

_I wish I knew what was happening. We all do. I hope you and your family are all right, since the wireless and the newspapers don't report so much as foreign Quidditch scores anymore. Happy Christmas to all of you, and may the New Year be better than the last one. (We all hope.) I'm giving you the address of my parents' house in Muggle London. Because I'm a witch, they can receive owls. Maybe your letters will reach me more easily there. Mum and Dad will keep them for me until they can be sure I will get them._

_Take care._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_It was a great relief to get your letter from Christmas. The news from Britain and Hogwarts is very worrisome, and there is trouble here too, I am thinking. Our Minister for Magic, as you may have heard, ordered increased efforts for Defense, but he has unexpectedly been killed. They say it was an accident, but many are thinking not. The new Minister is of the British Ministry's mind, it seems. I have met him yesterday, and he told me that I should not speak to the reporters about anything except Quidditch._

_I am sending this letter to your parents' address. I hope that it will reach you._

_Many good wishes,_

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_It has been some months now since I have heard from you, and I am worried. I know that you will write if you are able, and I am hoping that it is only your letters are failing to reach me, not that you are not able to write. If you receive this, even if you do not think your letter will get through, please try anyway, so that perhaps I might hear that you are well._

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_The situation outside Britain grows worse. Austria had also believed the danger, but their Council of Wizards has suddenly changed their minds. There is talk of murders of Councilors' families, but their communications also are stopping, and no certain word can reach us. _

_Our Minister spoke to me again yesterday, and is saying that if I do not stop making "inflammatory statements," he may have me banned from the Quidditch Team. The team says they do not think he will dare; the public outrage would be great. But it is troubling. I am not afraid, and my father and mother say that they wish me to continue speaking the truth._

_I still have not received any letters from you since Christmas. I hope that you are hearing from me._

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_I gave this letter to some friends who have left Hogwarts, and they say they will try very hard to get it to you. I haven't had a letter from you in months, and I'm sure it's because the mail here is being intercepted. They're not even pretending now—they call it "inspections and approvals."_

_Harry gave an interview to Rita Skeeter about Voldemort's return, describing what happened at the cemetery last year. It was hard for him, but we know someone who could get it published in _The Quibbler _magazine. It's a rather dodgy one, but at least it's not under the Ministry's control. It sold out, and hundreds of people were writing to Harry before Umbridge stopped his mail altogether. I would send you a copy of the article, but I don't want to draw attention to a large package._

_One bit of good news is that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup—and Ron saved many goals. We were very happy. We have O.W.L.s coming up now, and are counting the days until this year is over. I will keep writing and hope some of my letters reach you._

_Hermione._

* * *

_The Daily Prophet_

**HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS!**

In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is active once more…

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_I just got an enormous stack of letters from you. Looks like the mail is open again. I've sent you a copy of the _Daily Prophet_; Fudge has finally admitted Voldemort's back. Can't give much detail, but suffice it to say that Harry and I, along with Ron and some other friends, were at the Ministry when Voldemort showed up. We stopped him from getting what he wanted, but something terrible happened: Harry's godfather, the only real family he has, was killed. We're all heartbroken, Harry most of all. This on top of everything else in the past two years!_

_We just got home for the start of the summer holidays. I guess the war is well and truly started now. Two Ministry witches have been murdered—Madam Bones and Emmeline Vance. The Dementors have all left Azkaban—it turns out that it was Umbridge who sent them after Harry last summer! I can't believe how much time the Ministry wasted with their pitiful denials. _

_Please write to me at the Weasleys' and tell me how you are. I know from your letters you were all right, but I was very worried during the year._

_Best,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am very glad to hear from you again. I have not received any past letters from you. I am guessing they were destroyed; the mail is still very slow. I am very sorry to hear of Harry's godfather; they are saying in the papers here that it was Sirius Black, and that he was innocent? That is terrible._

_Our Quidditch team has been disbanded. We are very sad, but I am trying not to be very angry, for I see from what you and your friends have gone through that I remain very fortunate. And we will continue to practice as friends and hope to play again some day. _

_Has news of Karkaroff reached you? He is dead; his body was found in Siberia. The Dark Mark was above the house where he was living. Alexiev wrote to tell me of it; he is working in the Russian Embassy. Sven and Katya came to visit me after they heard the news; it is strange, the memories from hearing of Karkaroff again. We talked much of the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric, and Harry. They are also very sad for his godfather; he has suffered much these two years._

_Katya_ _is working in France, and Sven is here in Bulgaria working for the Ministry. He is worried about some of the people in control here. They behave suspiciously, he says. He wishes to know if there is a way he can send information to you and Headmaster Dumbledore about them._

_Please write back and tell me how we are able to do this._

_Sincerely,_

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_Someone will be calling on you in Bulgaria very soon to talk to you and Sven about ways we can all work together against Voldemort. I don't know who, but they will have something with them to prove to you that they were sent by me (and Professor Dumbledore.) Obviously, we cannot talk about it too much in letters, but thank you again for everything you're doing with us._

_Harry is the new Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and Professor Snape is now teaching Defense. We have a new Potions Professor called Horace Slughorn. He is a little nicer than Snape, but…it's hard to explain, but he's very odd. At least this year our Defense Professor won't try to kill anyone; Snape has had plenty of time if he wanted to off anybody (and if he was going to, it would have been Harry.)_

_I saw your picture from the Charity Ball in Greece. Was that Katya you were with? You looked very nice._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_Sven and I met with your friend from Britain, and we are now working with them for Dumbledore's "old crowd." We are very happy to be doing all we can; Voldemort is the enemy of everyone. As Sven has feared, there is serious trouble in our Ministry; the sympathizers of Voldemort are advancing high into our government. I do not want you to worry, but Sven says I should tell to you that I have been receiving threats. I will be very careful, but I will not stop speaking against Voldemort. Even though I am not playing Quidditch now, many people will listen to me._

_That was not Katya in the picture; that was Irina Poliakoff, Sven's elder sister. She does somewhat resemble Katya (Katya declares that this is proof that I am secretly in love with her, which is ridiculous because she is my cousin!) I hope you are not hurt or offended. I will always remember you and wish to remain friends, but it may be many months or years before we see each other again. If you wish to go out with boys in Britain, of course I will not be offended. _

_Please write me back soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Viktor._

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_Of course I'm not offended or hurt. You're right that we should be able to see other people; it wouldn't be fair for me to try to stop you, and I am glad we can remain friends. I am a little worried for you; the Death Eaters might try to use an attack on you to frighten people. I know you have been told this, but please be very careful._

_There are some strange things happening here—not that strange is not normal at Hogwarts. Harry has been using an old Potions textbook that was the property of someone who called himself "the Half-Blood Prince," and he's making the best marks ever in Potions. But there are some other things written in that book, spells and such, that I'm not so sure of. And Katie Bell, one of Gryffindor's Chasers, was very badly cursed yesterday by an enchanted necklace in Hogsmeade that someone wanted her to deliver to Dumbledore; it nearly killed her. _

_Did I tell you that Fleur is engaged to Ron's oldest brother, Bill Weasley? She was staying at their house with us for part of the summer and was very nice. Their wedding is set for the early summer. I hope you and Irina had a lovely time at the Ball and always wish you the best. She is a lucky girl._

_Best,  
Hermione_

_PS—We'll always have Paris._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I did not understand your postscript; we have never been to Paris. By the time this letter reaches you, it may be close to Christmas; I hope your holidays go well. _

_Things here have not improved; Irina and I had a pleasant time at the Ball, but she and Sven have agreed that she will go to the United States. He is not saying exactly, but I am thinking he has even more threats than I do. I fear he is being demanded to join the supporters of Voldemort within our Ministry, and that he or his sister will be harmed if he refuses._

_I have received a letter from Fleur to tell me of her engagement (am I right in thinking it was Bill Weasley that came to support Harry in the Third Task with Mrs. Weasley?) She says I will receive an invitation, so I hope I will see you there next summer._

_Sincerely, _

_Viktor._

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
__Sports Section P. 1_

**Quidditch** **World Shaken By Brutal Murder of Superstar Seeker's Parents!**

Horrific news met famed Quidditch Seeker Viktor Krum, 20, on his return home to Bulgaria after participating in a training camp for underprivileged young wizards and witches in Poland. The bodies of Dimitri and Elsa Krum were found in their home two hours before their son was expected to arrive; investigators first on the scene report that the couple had been tortured in a variety of ways, including the Cruciatus Curse. Multiple witnesses reported the Dark Mark was seen above the house.

Viktor Krum has been a prominent and outspoken opponent of He Who Must Not Be Named, and one of the few public figures who actively endorsed the statements by Harry Potter in the immediate aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament that the dreaded dark wizard had returned. There is little doubt in Bulgaria or the rest of the wizarding world that the cruel murder of Krum's parents was an act of retaliation by You Know Who's supporters.

Krum is a graduate of Durmstrang Institute, whose former Headmaster Igor Karkaroff was also found dead this year with the Dark Mark above his home. No statements have been made yet by the acclaimed athlete of whether this tragic event will lead him to change or soften his advocacy of open war against You Know Who's forces.

* * *

_Dear Viktor,_

_What can any of us possibly say to show you how deeply we all feel for you now? I am so terribly sorry. Your mother and father were very kind, good people, and it was clear that they loved you very much and were very proud of you. I can't imagine what you're feeling now, and I wish I could be there to tell you in person._

_Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and all of us want you to know that you are in our thoughts, and that if there is anything we can do, anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask. You have done so much for our side. If you would like to come here to Britain to keep working against Voldemort, the old crowd would be glad to have you._

_Again, I am so very sorry. Please tell me if there is any way that I can help._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

_PS—The Headmaster, Harry and Ron, and some of the others have written letters for you, and I am enclosing them all._

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I thank you all for your very kind condolences. I do not deny that the past weeks have been very hard, but I am doing well enough. Katya and Marcel came to stay with me, and there were many very kind letters. _

_Your words about my mother and father were very kind, and I was glad to read them. They told me last year that they were proud of me for speaking about Voldemort when your Ministry denied him, and I believe they still thought I was doing right. I spoke before in Cedric's name, that his death may have justice, and now I will speak for my parents._

_I will consider your suggestion for me to come to England, but for now, I will remain in Bulgaria. I do not wish to be seen as afraid._

_Thank you for everything you have done,_

_Viktor._

_PS—I have enclosed notes for all in the old crowd who wrote to me, to thank them personally._

* * *

_The Daily Prophet  
__Headline Section_

**Krum After Parents' Murder: I Will Not Surrender To Him!**

After ten weeks of private mourning in the wake of his parents' brutal murder, international Quidditch star Viktor Krum has resumed his public defiance of He Who Must Not Be Named with more zeal than ever.

"After Lord V's return, I spoke in the name of his victim, my fellow Triwizard champion, Cedric Diggory. Now I speak in the name of my mother and father, and I will continue to speak against him with my last breath. We who believe in freedom for all wizards and witches must not let V make us afraid; we must stand our ground in the name of those who have been murdered, and in the name of those who still live."

Multiple wizarding governments working in opposition to He Who Must Not Be Named have applauded Krum's courageous words. Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Special Advisor to the French Magical Parliament, has called Krum "a shining beacon of bravery and strength in these dark days, whose light may reassure all those who are afraid."

It cannot be denied that if the followers of You Know Who were hoping to quell or frighten Krum into silence with the murder of his family, they have grossly underestimated his resolve.

_

* * *

_

_Dear Viktor,_

_We listened to your speech on the wireless in the Gryffindor common room last night; we're all very proud of you. You've really heartened a lot of people with how strong you're being. You've probably heard about the Dementor attacks here. It's awful. We need all the courage we can hear these days._

_On the other hand, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. Harry was out again (year-long detentions with Snape; it's a long story), but the celebration got a bit out of hand, and now he's going out with Ginny Weasley. Ron is not quite sure how to react. I did have a date this year, back at Christmastime, to a party thrown by Professor Slughorn with another boy at Gryffindor. I doubt I had as good a time as you and Irina—actually, I rather hate him now. He's a berk._

_Only two more months until Fleur's wedding to Bill. Honestly, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley aren't exactly overjoyed; Fleur seems to rub them the wrong way (I have a feeling her Veela blood has something to do with it.) But Bill is happy, and that's what's important. _

_Write me back if you get the chance between press conferences. Harry says you should be the "chosen one," (have you read those ridiculous articles?) he says you are much better at making people feel confident than he is._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

* * *

**CATASTROPHE AT HOGWARTS! HEADMASTER DUMBLEDORE MURDERED!**

The international wizarding committee has been shaken to its core by the murder of one of its most acclaimed sorcerers and upstanding members! Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was reportedly killed by a member of his own teaching staff who is also suspected of granting Death Eaters entry to the school itself.

Early reports are that Death Eaters entered the school and began attacking students and teachers in an effort to engage as many of the staff as possible while the Dark Mark was conjured above the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore's body was found in the wake of the attack, and a witness reported that Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Severus Snape, known to be a former Death Eater but vouched for by Dumbledore himself, was seen casting the Killing Curse upon the Headmaster before fleeing the school with the Death Eaters.

Funeral arrangements are expected to be announced within twenty-four hours, and acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has announced that the student body will be returned home to their families immediately afterward, prior to closure of the school.

This tragedy cannot be called anything but a crushing blow to those members of the international wizarding community who are fighting against the forces of He Who Must Not Be Named. Dumbledore was considered one of the dark wizard's foremost and strongest opponents in this and the previous war.

An unconfirmed report states that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was with Dumbledore outside the school prior to the attack.

_

* * *

_

_Dear Viktor,_

_I'm sure you've heard about Headmaster Dumbledore. The old crowd is more worried than ever, I can tell you. Bill was attacked by a werewolf that night and badly scarred, but he didn't contract Lycanthropy, thank heavens. Fortunately, Fleur is sticking by him, and that seems to have warmed things up with the rest of the Weasleys considerably. The wedding is still on for mid-July._

_Please keep speaking out. We need your voice more than ever now that Dumbledore is gone. I should tell you that I never told Harry what you said about how Dumbledore could have done more to keep him out of the Triwizard Tournament. I thought about telling him several times this year, but he was always so worried about so much already…and I really don't think I should tell him now. He's sad enough as it is. _

_After the wedding, I may be out of touch for awhile. Now that school is closed, we're going to be working on lots of things with the old crowd, and some of it may involve traveling where we can't send owls. I'll let you know that we're safe whenever I can, and please keep writing to me. I will pick up your letters and write back whenever I come home._

_I hope to see you soon, and whatever happens next, I will be thinking of you and hoping you're all right._

_Best,_

_Hermione._

_PS—Ron's asked me to be his escort at the wedding. Fleur says to tell you that you are welcome to bring a date._

_

* * *

_

_The Daily Prophet  
__P. 1_

**Death Eater Fears Increasing Abroad; Nations Tighten Security, Suspicions Grow**

France and China have joined the growing number of nations closing their borders to foreigners as fears of government and community infiltration by Death Eaters are growing. Foreigners who have arrived within the past two years are considered particularly suspect, and deportation proceedings are accelerating in wizarding governments throughout the world.

Riots have been reported in Mexico and the United States, targeting European visitors in particular out of fear of a possible Death Eater foothold in the New World. Brazil and Argentina have given all foreign wizards forty-eight hours to leave or risk arrest and indefinite detainment.

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am not certain if this letter will reach you before my response reaches Fleur, but I wished also to tell you: I am not able to come to the wedding. There is great trouble here; Sven has gone missing. I am telling Irina to stay in America and not come here; there are signs of struggle at his home, and I fear Irina would also be attacked. She has agreed to stay away from Europe, and I will join our Ministry wizards to search for him. Alexiev also is coming from Russia to help._

_There is always hope, I know, but we are all very afraid. I wish to speak to the reporters of Sven, but I fear that if he is alive, he may be harmed or killed if he is mentioned by me. Our Aurors have advised me to wait for the time being, while they continue the search._

_The Bulgarian wizarding government is barely working; many are dead or have left the country, and those left are many Voldemort supporters. There is great violence against Muggles breaking out, and we have tried to warn their government, but someone is Obliviating all those we speak to. Dementors have been reported in the northern part of the country._

_Please give my best wishes for health and happiness to Fleur and Bill. (Please also tell Ron that he is most fortunate in his escort.) I will also write to you as often as I am able, and pray daily for the safety of all our friends. I am very glad for Fleur and Bill to be able to bring some joy to these times. The package attached is my wedding present to them, if you will deliver it for me._

_Yours always,_

_Viktor._

_PS—I think I must explain you a little more. There is no time for me to train, but because so many of our Aurors have been killed, I have chosen to join with them. They will take all they can trust, such as me and Alexiev. I am thinking you know that there is great danger in this, but I am also thinking that you too are facing great danger where you are going. It may be long before we hear from each other again._

_If we should not hear from each other again, I wish to tell you that my friendship and love remain yours, for the joy we shared in those days at Hogwarts and the kindness you always showed to me and my friends. Those first days in the winter and the Yule Ball are the best of my memories, and in the dark times since, your letters have always been a comfort._

_I send my strongest prayers for your happiness and safety in the coming days, my dearest, lovely friend, and the deepest hope that we will one day meet again._

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _More than three years after he last set foot in the British Isles, Viktor Krum returns to join the Order of the Phoenix in the increasingly-desperate fight against Lord Voldemort. But frightening and unhappy news awaits him in Chapter Four: From The Ashes!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**


	4. From The Ashes

**_A/N:_** _These are stressful times, dear readers, and I'm sorry I can't update more often. I'm still plugging away with this story and my others, so please be patient as I drag myself on toward graduation from law school. Tomorrow morning I take the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam (in other words, legal ethics for all occasions), which is one of the two big ones required for admission to the Bar. Wish me luck!_

**_Canon Note:_** _I've always had a persistent little idea that J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, while fiction to us, is a wizarding ancient history book. You don't need to know LOTR canon to understand this story, so fear not: all will be explained. Oh, and if you're wondering why Viktor's dropped his accent, remember he's had three years to practice his English. It also drives the spellcheck crazy._

**Chapter Four: From The Ashes**

When Viktor's team arrived in the United Kingdom, his first thought was that this country was a great deal colder than he remembered. Then again, the Shetland Islands were a great deal further north than the last place he had been in this country. He, Alexiev, and their comrades pulled their cloaks tightly around them as Hermann Schultz, the team leader, met their contact.

A moment later, Hermann called back to them. "Viktor. Come here." Viktor joined him, and Hermann muttered, "Our contact is to be from Hogwarts. Do you know him?"

The British wizard tramped across the snow and peered at them from the depths of his hood. "Well. At least there's one face I recognize." He lowered the hood. "How have you been, Krum?"

"Roger Davies," Viktor said, nodding to the other man. "I am glad to see you well. This is our team leader."

Roger shook Hermann's hand. "Schultz, isn't it? Come on. No sense making all the introductions in this weather. We're set up in some abandoned buildings about a mile from here."

Their resources were few, since use of magic was at a bare minimum to keep from giving away their presence to any hostile forces, but there was heat, there was food, and there were beds. "An embarrassment of riches," according to Davies's superior, a man by the name of Shacklebolt.

Viktor had come as part of Hermann's team by request of their allies in Britain, the mysterious Order of the Phoenix, who were working against the forces of Voldemort and rumored to have been founded by Albus Dumbledore. "We couldn't risk sending information back and forth, but here's the situation," Shacklebolt told them. "About two weeks ago, our intelligence picked up a powerful Dampening Ward about thirty miles south of here. Strong enough to inhibit just about any spell; there aren't many known wizards who could raise such a thing."

"Zey are saying You Know Who has a base of operations in zese islands?" one of Viktor's comrades asked.

Roger shrugged. "He's got bases all over this bloody continent; environment as inhospitable as this in the winter, can't be doubted. But no one can figure out why he'd want to _prevent_ use of magic around him. So we don't think he's personally at that location."

"But still it should be determined what _is _going on there," finished Hermann, nodding.

"We sent a team up last week; only one made it back alive. There's a strong Death Eater presence up here; they never got near the site. But they were using magic. We want to try again, but this time, going in without it," Shacklebolt explained. "We heard your teams have had some success at this in Russia, Hermann. That's why we asked for you."

Hermann looked at his team, meeting each of their eyes in turn. Viktor and Alexiev exchanged glances, then nodded, as did their comrades. Hermann turned back to Shacklebolt. "We are at your service, friends."

They adjourned so their superiors could discuss plans for entry, and Roger replenished Viktor and his comrades' supply of coffee. "I have not been back to this country since the Triwizard Tournament," Viktor remarked. "I hope you have been well."

"Well as can be expected," said Roger, pulling a face. "We were hoping to see you at Fleur Delacour's wedding to Bill Weasley, but we heard what happened. Did you ever find your friend?"

Alexiev shook his head. Roger sighed. "Bastards. We're losing people every week: dementors, giants, werewolves, Death Eater raids. It's the same everywhere. You two remember Professor Sinistra? Professor Vector?" Viktor and Alexiev nodded. "Vector's dead, Death Eater hit. Sinistra's in St. Mungo's, probably permanently. Her two sons, brother, and niece died in that raid. Her husband was never found. Blaise Zabini turned on his parents and joined the Order; did good work until the Death Eaters got him last month, poor kid."

"I remember Zabini," Viktor said. "He was very intelligent."

Roger nodded. "We're hanging on here, but dunno how much longer that'll last if we don't make a breakthrough soon. You heard about Harry Potter, of course?"

"No!" exclaimed Alexiev, glancing at Viktor, who did not speak. "What of him?"

"Missing," said Roger grimly. "Last anyone heard of him was over six months ago: September, I think. There've been some happenings since, Death Eaters arriving trussed up without anyone knowing who caught them, information turning up anonymously, we thought it might be from Potter, but nothing definite. He left on some mission a few of the Order higher-ups know of, but they're fearing the worst."

Viktor did not say anything. Alexiev looked carefully at him, then asked Roger, "What of his friends? The two he was always seen with, Ron Weasley and Hermione?"

Roger shrugged. "No sign of them either. They follow wherever he goes. If he's…well, it's…pretty likely they all are."

* * *

They departed for the location of the wards at the next dusk. Alexiev was watching him. "I am sorry, Viktor."

Viktor kept his eyes on where he was putting his feet on the muddy, icy ground. "I knew it to be a possibility. We have lost many friends and family, and Harry Potter was at the center of it all. Hermione, his friend and Muggleborn…I knew it could come to that."

"It is not certain they are dead," Hermann pointed out. Viktor looked from him to Roger and Shacklebolt, who avoided their gazes. It was all the answer that was needed.

_Harry Potter is dead. Ron Weasley is dead._

_She is dead._

"Almost half of his victims are never found," said one of Viktor's team members, Giovanni, and he put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "We fight in their name as we do for those who are found, and it is our honor to them."

"How is Fleur?" Viktor asked Roger. "Have you spoken much to her?"

"Not recently; I've been in and out of the country. Last I heard from her directly was…February, I think." Roger shook his head. "She and Bill and the rest of the Weasleys are safe, but they're taking it hard, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gone. When we're finished up here, if you can spare the time, you may want to go visit Fleur. You and she, you're…"

Viktor nodded. "I was thinking the same. Hogwarts has given much since the Tournament. Cedric, their Headmaster, now Harry and his friends. So many others." It had only been three years, he knew. But it seemed far longer.

Those days in the library and the Yule Ball with Hermione seemed another lifetime, another reality divorced from this. He had at times felt guilty for his fascination with her, a girl younger than he, more innocent, but he had since realized that in most ways, he had been just as innocent as she. They all had been. The end of the Tournament had changed everything. He did not remember her as a tragic lost love or anything so trivial as that—nor, he suspected, had she thought of him so. Rather, the Hermione he remembered dancing with and laughing with was the embodiment of another time, a happier time. Although it seemed less and less likely that such times would be in his life ever again, he could still fight to preserve such times for those who would come after him, the children who would attend Hogwarts and Durmstrang in future years.

He suspected Hermione had thought of it the same way. _We continue to fight so others may play Quidditch and dance at balls again one day and talk in the libraries._ He saw another self in his mind, in another library in some vague future, trying to work up the courage to ask another girl to a dance, watching her at her work, thinking that her face might not be as pretty and her clothes not as stylish, but admiring her concentration, her obvious intelligence, her sense when so many others were boring and frivolous. Would that they would have a future better than the one that had awaited Hermione and Viktor, Harry, Cedric, and all their friends.

She was dead, but there was not time to mourn her yet. Neither for Marcel, nor Sven and Irina. There was never time anymore.

It was a long walk over the gray landscape; there had been a thaw here in April, then a freeze, now another thaw, and the air was cold and damp, the trees barren, and the ground muddy. That gave him some time to think, to face the initial admission and stab of emotion that came from yet another loss, and to push it from his mind again as they drew closer to their goal. It was always this way; a loss of concentration at the wrong moment at any time could lead to himself being added to the ever-growing list of casualties. In spite of the despair that sometimes coursed through him when the knowledge crept into his mind of all the friends he had lost, he would rather live to keep fighting.

And he no longer felt any guilt in admitting that he was fighting also for revenge.

"We're coming up on the ward's position," murmured Shacklebolt, reading from a map rather than using his wand to detect it. "Should be approaching the northern edge."

They had brought their wands, but knew they could only be used if in mortal danger—and if they wound up within that ward, the wands would be useless. All of them were carrying non-magical weapons: knives, swords, and two of the Muggleborns among them carried a Muggle projectile-throwing weapon called a gun.

At a signal from Hermann, the team split into pairs and shifted to a stealthy approach, spreading out and keeping trees and rocks around them whenever possible. Viktor and Alexiev gripped arms in their usual farewell gesture before Viktor moved off with Roger.

Roger handed Viktor a copy of their map, and peered around a boulder holding what looked like a pair of omninoculars. "Binoculars," he whispered at Viktor's questioning look. "Muggle-made. Just for distance-view…ah."

"What do you see?" Viktor murmured.

"It's a hill…more like a rock formation, really…can see three openings from here—probably full of caves, tunnels. You could hide anything in there."

Viktor made a mental note to suggest to Hermann that they acquire these bi-noculars for future use. There were few Muggleborns or half-bloods left in Eastern Europe who could advise on such things. Some distance from them, Hermann signaled with his hands that he and his partner were going in. Alexiev and an Irish wizard, Brendan O'Rourke, were heading for another entrance, but Viktor and Roger were ordered to hold back. He watched Alexiev go and said a silent prayer. Always did he wonder when beginning a mission if he or his friend would not be there at the end.

"We will not know how they are faring at this distance," he said to Roger.

They waited for a few minutes, but saw no signs of movement from the hill, so they cautiously moved closer. Viktor could see several of the other teams doing the same, trying to surround the warded hill. "I hate going Muggle," Roger muttered.

Viktor nodded to one of the other pairs, which included a Muggleborn witch who was now perched halfway up an evergreen tree. "What is she doing?"

"Muggle gun trick. She's a sniper."

"Sniper?"

"Just believe me."

A few moments later, there was a commotion from one of the tunnels, and two wizards who were unmistakably Death Eaters came scrambling out. Before Viktor could even jump out from behind his concealing rock, a loud _BANG!_ echoed from the direction of the Muggleborn witch, and one of the Death Eaters pitched over, writhing on the ground. The other bolted back into the cave, and a second BANG! was followed by chips of rock flying off the hillside.

"_That_ is a gun sniper?" Viktor exclaimed as he and Roger ran forward.

"Impressive, isn't it? Cover me!" Roger examined the wounded Death Eater, whose hip was bleeding profusely, then unceremoniously clubbed the man unconscious and motioned for another pair to retrieve him. "Let's move in."

They had torches, but as long as there was light from the entrance, they would not risk giving their location away. Viktor's palm brushed the dagger he wore, ready to snatch it out at a moment's provocation. Roger carried a quarterstaff (which he had demonstrated last night by knocking four of Viktor's teammates off their feet.) With the careful stealth of seasoned fighters, they moved one behind the other into the darkness, entire bodies taught with tension, alert for the slightest sound, motion, or change in the air that might mean the difference between life and death.

As it happened, their objective had no time for stealth; they heard voices shouting and bodies struggling yards ahead, and charged forward, bearing their lights ahead of them. Around a few more confusing bends toward the echoing noise, they found three Death Eaters trying to get past Alexiev and O'Rourke. Roger and Viktor tossed their lights against the tunnel walls to continue burning and launched into the fray. Alexiev, struggling against a Death Eater about six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than he, dove out of the way, and a few quick sweeping blows of Roger's quarterstaff left the big wizard in a stunned heap on the floor. Viktor and O'Rourke went at the other two; one was finally pinned, but the other refused to yield, and Viktor dispatched him.

Moments later, They all straightened, breathing heavily with exertion and adrenaline, and Roger motioned for silence. "Listen!"

Footsteps, moving hurriedly away. Alexiev grabbed one of the torches, and O'Rourke motioned to him and to Viktor. "Go! We'll back you!"

Moving low and fast, Viktor and Alexiev darted after the unseen figure. Soon they could hear him panting; no doubt he was starting to panic. Viktor lit his own torch, took aim, and threw it as far down the tunnel as he could. It didn't hit the fleeing wizard, but the light revealed him, and there was a yell of alarm as the figure pivoted and dodged frantically away from them. "Help, help!"

Viktor and Alexiev didn't have to speak to each other to realize the tactic, and they were ready when, out of another branching tunnel, the fleeing wizard's waiting ally struck.

Alexiev dodged a wild swipe of a silver sword and delivered a punch that threw the attacker against the cave wall, while Viktor drew his blade and readied himself as the first wizard spun back to lunge for him. But just then, as he heard the grunting of Alexiev struggling with the second figure behind them, the air pressure changed to his left, and he dodged to one side as a third figure came at him with a feminine cry of challenge.

Viktor swiped with his dagger, but the witch twisted away, and the first wizard landed on top of him, bellowing. Fortunately, for all his ferocity, the first wizard was rather scrawny, and Viktor sprang upright with the smaller man still clinging to him, and bucked him off. The witch screamed, and he heard Roger and O'Rourke arriving. Alexiev had pinned the second wizard—Viktor could hear him groaning—and a knife went flying against the wall as Rogers simply tackled the witch. And then…

"_Bloody hell! Shit! Hold, you bloody fools, HOLD! _"

Roger's shout forestalled the kick Viktor was about to deliver to the still-struggling wizard, and he backed off warily as his opponent rolled over, grunting. Behind him, he heard the witch coughing, but then… "Roger?"

"Good god!" O'Rourke exclaimed, and Viktor looked over his shoulder.

Roger was releasing the witch, backing up from her in astonishment as she turned toward Alexiev and the other wizard. "Get _off _him! Harry?"

"I'm okay…ow…" With the help of the witch and the bewildered Alexiev, the second wizard sat up, rubbing his jaw. "Bloody took one of my teeth out…" he glanced in Viktor's direction and froze. "Krum?"

Viktor could only stare. It was Harry Potter.

From behind Viktor, none other than Ron Weasley came staggering past to his friend's side, and the witch…

There would be no other with these two; he knew that. But the witch crouched at Harry Potter's side was almost irreconcilable with his memories of three years before. For one thing, she was filthy, and her rough traveling garments had seen hard wear. She bore the marks of fighting, not just this fight, but repeated magical and physical struggles.

Even with all that, he might have recognized the girl he had known at Hogwarts, but the eyes, the face, and bearing of this woman here were entirely unfamiliar. There was no longer any youthful softness in her face, and her thin, set features spoke of hardship and hunger in the past year. She carried her weight as all Aurors and fighters did who had seen heavy combat, ready to spring into battle on a second's notice. But her brown eyes…it had only been three years since he had seen them. They were hard now, and much, much older, and he could see them dark with remembered pain.

She had not moved when she saw him. Her voice was also different. "Viktor?"

It was several moments before he could find his. "Hermione."

* * *

Harry Potter had been bitten by a snake the size of a small tree. "_How_ big around is it?" Roger exclaimed.

Ron Weasley demonstrated with his arms. "This big, give or take. Bloody near took my arm off, but she decided Harry would taste better, I guess. It's Voldemort's snake; she attacked my dad a few years ago."

"Where is she now?"

"Dunno," muttered Harry, leaning heavily on Hermione while Hermann and Shacklebolt examined his tightly-bound leg. He gestured to the sword, which was studded with rubies. "I know I got her at least once. Voldemort sent her after me. He can see through her mind, but we—ow!—thought he wouldn't try to follow her if he couldn't use magic."

"Oh, so you're the one who warded this place," said Roger. Harry nodded. "And you couldn't get the wards back down again after you were bitten."

The rest of the two teams had gradually joined them and were now forming a perimeter around the newly-discovered trio. Hermione had not left Harry's side and was peering grimly at the wound. "I bound it as tight as I could."

"You were chasing a big snake, and you didn't bring anti-venom?" demanded O'Rourke.

Hermione shot him a withering look. "Three maximum doses, actually. I wasn't bitten, so I split mine between Harry and Ron. Ron's hand is almost healed, but Harry got a deeper bite. It needs Healing magic."

"I agree," said Shacklebolt. "Let's get you lot out of here."

"We can't go yet!" Harry protested. "We have to finish Nagini off!"

"That thing has a _name?_"

"You Know Who's pet snake can't be that important."

"Oho, yes, it can," Ron retorted. "On the other hand, Harry, you can barely walk!"

"Ron, this is the _last—bloody—one_!"

"Harry, Ron, shush!" Hermione snapped. She looked up at the others, her eyes flitting briefly to Viktor, before saying, "But it is true that there's a specific reason Nagini has to be destroyed as soon as possible. If there's any chance she's still here, we need to find her, because once she goes back to Voldemort, it'll be that much harder to reach her."

Hermann and many of Viktor's teammates were frowning, but Viktor observed that Hermione's word was enough to satisfy Shacklebolt and the Order members. "Then let us send patrols to find it," he suggested.

"Be careful; she's wicked fast," Ron warned. Then he grinned, "Then again, you might just have the reflexes to handle her, eh?"

"Maybe, but I'm the one she'll come out for," Harry said.

"And you're about to pass out," Hermione snapped, like a scolding mother. (Harry sulked as if she were.)

Roger stood up. "Then why don't we—"

"_AHHHH! _BLOODY FECKING HELL, THERE'S AN EFFING _BASILISK _IN HERE!"

"There she is," said Ron.

Harry scrambled up. "Quiet everyone down and get them out of the way! She'll come to me!"

Hermann and Shacklebolt gave a collective bellow for silence that was instantly obeyed, and then Viktor heard a singularly odd sound from Harry Potter's lips. Hissing, lisping syllables echoed through the cave, and a moment later, they were answered. It dawned upon Viktor then that he was hearing the language of snakes. Even though he had been educated at a school where such things were not taboo as they were here, the sound still made him (and his companions) shiver.

Harry continued to call to the snake, and motioned with his hands for everyone on one stretch of the tunnel to move down until they were past him. Roger beckoned the two Muggleborns forward with their gun weapons, and sent all those with smaller weapons further down the tunnel. "Reach is the key here," he muttered.

"Haff you seen it?" Alexiev whispered.

"Mm-mm. Heard of it, though. Psst! Torches out!"

The only light remaining was the one held by Hermione, who stubbornly refused to leave Harry, but compromised by perching halfway _up_ the tunnel wall, bracing herself against a small foothold and the ceiling. Several others had also readied themselves in that position, hoping to trap the snake without leaving a means of retreat. Then Viktor heard something sliding dryly along the dirt and gravel of the cave floor.

It sounded…very large.

Harry continued to hiss, backing himself down a branch that formed a "T" in the tunnels, with Order members just outside the reach of the torchlight on one side, and braced against the walls and ceiling on the side from which the snake would approach. Viktor felt his stomach lurch when the thing came into view; it was not a basilisk…but it was not small either.

The serpent began to raise its head when it spotted Harry, and Viktor saw the Muggleborn witch and wizard who used the gun weapons taking aim. One of them made a clicking sound.

Instantly, the snake reared up, baring its enormous fangs at the intruders and lunged toward them. The banging of the guns was deafening in the cave, and in the opposite direction, several of Hermann's operatives lit torches and threw them to the cave floor, letting them burn to block the snake's retreat. The guns punctured the snake's body, sending spurts of blood as the creature thrashed and hissed in rage, and Harry swept the sword at it. The blow was glancing, gashing the serpent, but it was still strong enough to be a threat, and now enraged. Its throes of pain and anger sent Harry flying, nearly landing him upon the burning torches, and the ruby-encrusted sword landed on the ground.

Then the thing lurched upward as another volley from the guns struck it, and as it swung its enormous head along the wall, it struck Hermione's foot, unbalancing her and dropping her to the floor. She hit the ground on her back and immediately scrambled away, grunting, but she was only feet from the snake, and it spotted her. Viktor lunged for the sword. Opening its bloody mouth with a savage hiss, the serpent began its strike, but Viktor did not think; he simply swung the weapon as hard as he could in a blow that made the bones of his arms ring from an impact that hewed the creature's head from its body.

Blood sprayed, Hermione shouted, and the length of the swing unbalanced Viktor and sent him staggering into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, the world was nothing but a chaos of noise and bright light, but when his vision cleared, he found himself face-down and covered in blood, and Hermione a few yards from him, raising herself up on her elbows and wincing in pain from her fall. Several Order members were still hacking away at the serpent, but Viktor could see it was dead.

"Careful," Harry was gasping from somewhere further away. "There may be—curses if she's—killed."

"You all right, mate? Harry, you all right?"

Viktor pulled himself up and went to help Hermione; she let him pull her to her feet without a second glance at the gore all over him. Ron was trying with little success to get Harry up. "Think I—hit my—head…"

"Shite. Someone give me a hand!"

Hermione stumbled over to them. "That binding's come loose. Kingsley, we need to get him out of here now."

"Right-o. Not to worry, his scaly friend is definitely dead. Abbott, Fawcett, Stebbins, see about getting these wards down. O'Rourke, Roger, stay with them until it's done."

"Yessir!"

Hermann ordered several of his operatives to remain behind as well, and Alexiev tugged at Viktor's arm. "Come. Ve should not linger here." They gathered up Harry and several Order members who'd been injured fighting the Death Eaters and departed.

* * *

The presence of the Death Eaters, it was suspected, had been due to Harry's Dampening Ward, the same curiosity that had drawn the Order to this location. "Didn't really think of that," Harry admitted. "I just needed to get at Nagini somewhere that Voldemort wasn't likely to try and go."

"Why would he fear the loss of magic?" Alexiev asked.

"Magic's everything to him," said Ron. "Without it, he's just Lizard Man." He grinned, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry smiled wearily.

Shacklebolt joined them as the Healers were finishing the treatment of Harry's wounds. "So Nagini's dead. Was she the…last?" he asked, giving Harry a significant look.

Harry nodded. "Vhat does this mean?" Hermann said, frowning at them.

"Should've made introductions," said Kingsley apologetically. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, this is Hermann Schultz, a senior operative of the International Confederation of Wizards. You know Viktor Krum, of course, and Alexiev Chekov was at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament three years ago. All this lot are more of the Confederation's agents—allies of the Order." To Hermann, he explained, "Potter was on a major mission for us, top secret, although," he glanced at Harry, "I'd prefer to put at least the team leaders in the know."

"If you trust them, that's good enough for me," said Harry. Viktor watched the boy thoughtfully, noticing that Harry's eyes had changed much also from the last time they had met. Three years ago, Harry had already seen horrors that would shatter other, less courageous wizards, but his had been the haunted, fearful eyes of an innocent child. Fleur had been right to call him a little boy. This elder Harry had the eyes and the voice of a soldier, like Hermione, like Shacklebolt and Hermann, and, Viktor supposed, like himself.

"Right. Let's have a chat then, shall we? I'll bring you up to speed on where we're going from here." Shacklebolt motioned Hermann to a separate room they were using as the team leaders' office and meeting room. "The rest of you, if you're not on watch, get to sleep!"

Viktor was ordered by Alexiev to stop trying to impress everyone with blood all over his clothing, so he took the hint and went to wash up. When he returned, his cohorts were muttering amongst themselves as they readied for sleep. They saw Viktor coming and fell silent. He narrowed his eyes at them.

"Your old friends from Hogwarts have an interesting arrangement of sleeping," said Giovanni, jerking his head further down the barracks-like sleeping room.

Viktor shook his head, but curiosity got the better of him, and he went to look. Although there was not a shortage of beds, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sharing one, with Harry in the middle and Ron and Hermione on either side of him. It was rather odd, but they were all fully clothed and appeared more like siblings than anything untoward, so Viktor shrugged at his friends and went to his own bed, pushing aside a twinge of emotion.

* * *

He woke after only a few hours—an irritating quirk of his body—and could not go back to sleep. He was rising to go in search of something to eat when he saw Hermione coming from their bed, wrapping herself in an extra blanket. She paused uncertainly, then smiled at him, and they walked out into the kitchen together to sit by the stove.

She looked sideways at him as he put coffee on and guessed what he wanted to ask. "Harry, Ron, and I have been sleeping like that so long, we don't even think about it anymore."

"These months have been hard for you," he observed.

She held out her hands to the fire and shrugged. "Not really. Being cut off from everything else has its advantages. No newspapers, no casualty reports. At least, not every day."

"Where have you been?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Everywhere," she said wryly. "To Norway on a forty-foot boat, to the Sahara, to Siberia, China, North and South America—I'm not joking," she added, seeing his dubious face.

"It was very long, then, this mission of yours?"

"Let's just say we were looking for some things that Voldemort did a very good job of hiding," Hermione told him. She accepted the cup of coffee Viktor poured her, and drank it black. "None of us have seen a bed in four months, most of the time we just slept together to keep warmer. Voldemort's doing everything he can to track Harry, you see, so we tried never to use magic. Must've worked, since we're still alive."

Viktor said quietly, "The Order feared you were dead."

Hermione grimaced. "We figured they would. But every owl or call we sent was risk of being found. If Voldemort ever realized what we were after…" she shook her head. "_We_ knew we were alive. So we knew there was still hope." The twist of her mouth made him realize she was being sarcastic. She looked up at him. "On the other hand, we've heard no news of anyone for weeks. Have you?"

"You mean the deaths?" he asked. She nodded. With a sigh, he thought back. "Professor Vector of Hogwarts is dead. Professor Sinistra's family was attacked in November; she survived, but her family is dead. Blaise Zabini joined the Order, but was killed last month. Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody of the Order are also dead."

Hermione listened with downcast eyes, but was completely calm, other than closing her eyes for a few moments. Viktor knew that look; all those fighting wore it. There was still pain, terrible pain when a name upon the list was that of one beloved, but there was no longer shock. Taking a deep breath without looking up, she asked, "What about your people? Did you find Sven?"

"No. It is no longer expected that we will find him. His sister Irina is also dead; she was killed in the United States, in a riot."

Her hand came to rest on his. "I was glad to see Alexiev safe. Roger says Alicia's all right; Alexiev was glad to hear that. What about Katya?"

Viktor leaned back in his chair and looked into the stove's fire. The flames' dance was hypnotic, helping to dull his emotions as he spoke. "When last I heard, she had gone to Canada. Marcel...she was with him in France, but they thought they were safe there. He asked her to marry him. She accepted, but by the time I received her letter, he was dead. It was discovered when they were signing the papers that she was from Durmstrang. They were attacked. She survived. He did not." He could not have gone on even if there had been more to tell, and Hermione's grip on his hand had become very tight. He looked at her and found that her eyes were still tightly closed, but tears were escaping from beneath the lids, sliding slowly down her face. She made no sound. He put his arm around her, and she sank into his embrace, pressing her forehead to his chest.

They said nothing, for there was nothing to say. In the morning, there would be new briefings held, possibly new missions or new orders from Headquarters—either Viktor's or Hermione's—or even attacks to defend against. But tonight, although there was no joy and little real pleasure to be found in their lives anymore, they might still manage to find a little comfort and a little peace.

Until it all began again.

* * *

And in the morning, it did.

Viktor volunteered to help prepare breakfast, even though he hadn't the faintest idea how one did this completely without the aid of magic, but everyone agreed it would be unfair to stick the Muggleborns with all the hard labor. It was…edible, which according to Roger was par for the course for the teams' meals. Hermione had gone to bathe as best one could in water that was tepid at best and without the benefit of complementary Cleaning Charms. Fortunately, every one of them had been out in the field long enough to get used to each other's slightly ripe scents, male and female.

Shacklebolt and two of the Order members departed on patrol while Hermann remained in charge of both groups. Giovanni and O'Rourke were doing the washing up while Roger began teaching a non-magical card game to Viktor and Alexiev when they heard shouting from the sleeping room.

Hermione and Ron looked moments away from drawing their wands on Harry, who was wearing all his heavy clothes as if about to go somewhere. "We go through this every bloody week!" Ron was saying. "We're sticking with you 'till the end, mate."

"This IS the end, don't you see that?" Harry protested. "You two have done all you can, but the last part we all know I have to do myself."

"No, we DON'T know that!" Hermione shouted. "If it does come down to you and Voldemort, fine, but until you're face-to-face with him, you need help. You can't go walking off looking for him alone."

"And what happens to you two when I finally am face-to-face with him?" Harry demanded.

"We're hexing the arse off any Death Eaters who try to get you from behind," said Ron, trying for a touch of humor.

Harry paused for a moment when he saw the Order members watching, but when Hermione and Ron turned to look, his face hardened. He glanced at Viktor, then returned his attention to his friends and said in a low voice, "No. What will happen is that the two of you will be considered 'spares.' Like Cedric."

Viktor stiffened in spite of himself, and Hermione hissed and looked over her shoulder at him. "That was low," Ron said tightly.

"It's also true," Harry replied. "Look, I'm sorry! I've made up my mind."

"So have we," said Hermione, crossing her arms.

"You two are NOT going with me!"

Ron started to shout, but Hermione shoved him out of her way so that she could get nose-to-nose with Harry. "And this is one thing we're not going through again, Harry James Potter—we do NOT take orders from you, you do NOT decide anything for us, and we'll fight along with you if we BLOODY WELL WANT TO, I don't care if you're the bloody 'chosen one' or not!"

Hermann and Viktor's team exchanged awkward glances, and Roger decided to cut in. "Good lord, what's this? Dissension in the ranks?" The trio's quarreling cut off abruptly, with a sulky and put-upon air from all three of them. Viktor saw Alexiev and Giovanni looking surprised, as if they hadn't been aware that the Great Harry Potter and his friends would ever reduce themselves to juvenile behavior, but Roger at least knew better. "Enough of that, you lot. Kingsley's sending a report to Headquarters, and they'll have a better idea of where to go from here."

"No problem with that," said Ron.

"Of course not; it can't hurt to work WITH the Order once in awhile," Hermione added, narrowing her eyes at Harry, who looked rebellious. A quick look from her to the others in the room was all the warning they needed to keep an eye out for her powerful, but dangerously reckless friend trying to sneak out the doors during the night. Harry glared harder at her, sensing her unspoken message, but then dropped his eyes, visibly relenting.

* * *

"He NEVER changes!" Hermione was ranting in the kitchen later while helping out with dinner. (Ron was keeping a subtle surveillance in case Harry decided to do more than sulk.) "And Ron and I can't figure out whether he's convinced he's untouchable or expendable—either way, he thinks he can just run off on a one-wizard crusade whenever he pleases like we're just a couple of tagalongs—"

"Easy, love!" said O'Rourke, laughing. "We don't need convincing!"

She grabbed a wet rag Giovanni had been trying (and failing) to clean up spilled coffee with and threw it at him. "Men."

The others laughed. Over the heads of Roger and O'Rourke, she could see Viktor at the table with Marianne Brandon, one of the Order's famed Muggleborn snipers. Marianne was cleaning her guns and explaining how they worked to the fascinated Bulgarian. Hermione felt a twinge of emotion deep in the pit of her stomach that had her turning quickly back to the foodstuffs. Scrounging up a remotely palatable meal was hard enough without nursing unfounded hostility for a fellow Order member.

_Marianne's a lot prettier than me anyway._ That thought slipped out before she could stop it, annoyingly undeniable: Marianne was older than Hermione, older than Viktor, probably, and her distance skill with Muggle firearms had kept her out of the heat of most fighting—and the physical wear and tear that went along with it. With her clean, neat, curly auburn hair and bright blue eyes, she stood out among the roughened Order members like Fleur Delacour had among the Hogwarts boys. Hermione, on the other hand, had long since reconciled herself to a perpetual state of dirtyness.

_Get your mind on the job, girl!_ With a mental headshake, she resumed digging around the canned vegetables with vigor, but then the irony of it all struck her. _At least I know my hormones haven't been completely buried by all this fighting!_

* * *

_She had to shield her eyes against the glare from the hillside and the sparkling water. The air itself shone with a gleaming mist that rolled up from the shore, partly concealing the island from the other side of the water._

_She had to cross the water. She was needed there. Not alone, but there was a part that only she could play._

_As though in a trance, she moved down to the water's edge, and the island became clearer to her, yet somehow she knew that no other on this side of the water could see it. Only her. _

_She had to go. She was needed. Someone beyond the mist was calling to her, bidding her to cross. _

_There was a boat there, waiting for her. It would permit her entrance. She moved down over the grass towards it, urged on by some will she could not see. She was not afraid. And small as it was, the boat did not rock when she stepped in…_

The mattress rocked sharply, jolting Hermione awake, and she glared sleepily over to see Ron and Harry clambering their noisy, clumsy way off the other side as someone started banging around in the kitchen. With a groan, she rolled to the middle of the mattress and went back to sleep.

* * *

The boys were talking intelligence with Hermann when Hermione stumbled into the kitchen awhile later. "Would've been worse if Voldemort had realized what we were after. I think the Order's done a good job keeping him from finding out so far," Ron was saying.

"That'll have changed now that Nagini's dead," Harry pointed out.

"Vill he try to make new ones, do you think?" Hermann asked.

Harry shrugged. "Nobody knows. Dumbledore said he had a thing about the number seven. If he splits himself again…" He shot a cheeky grin at the sleepy Hermione as she sat down across from them. Viktor handed her the coffee pot and did her the courtesy of not remarking on her current groggy state.

"You think he vill not?"

"I've got no real reason," Harry mused. "I just have this feeling he won't."

"Your guts have a way of being right," said O'Rourke. "And those weren't the only power sources he was interested in."

"Anything new?" Hermione perked up enough to ask.

"We spent the better part of three months chasing him out of Stonehenge."

Ron whistled. "I can guess what he'd try to do with that place."

Giovanni shook the empty coffee pot and went back to the stove. "He is seeking locations to focus his power everywhere. His agents have been heavily invading Rome and Venice. Also Greece."

"He does like his ancient strongholds, doesn't he," Hermione remarked.

"He always does," said Kingsley, coming through the door. "That alone wouldn't be such a surprise. What _is _a surprise, and what's got our superiors bloody worried, is that in the past week, they seem to be pulling out of every position he's taken, even those we haven't got a prayer of dislodging him from."

Viktor leaned back in his chair. "Are you certain they have not merely concealed themselves as a trap?"

Roger shook his head. "They've pulled out. The Italian chapels, the Roman temples, Delphi, the Rhine…deserted. And what's worse, we haven't seen a sign of where they're massing now."

"A force that large has to go somewhere," said Harry. "Have we got a general direction?"

Hermione smiled to herself. Harry sounded like a general himself, these days. _Whatever happened to our little Quidditch captain? she wondered wistfully._

Kingsley interrupted her reminiscence with a grim nod. "They're back in the Isles."

Marianne's eyes widened. "You think they're trying for a full takeover?"

"They may have an advantage, but it's not that big," Ron protested. "Why go all out when they're not even holding Stonehenge?"

"They do not mean to do that," Viktor said, reading the team leaders' faces. "It would be senseless."

"They've got something bigger," Harry concluded. "Something or some place more powerful than Stonehenge or all the other magical sites put together. Something he'll commit all his people to hold."

"What, Harry?"

"Beats me," he replied dryly. Ron rolled his eyes.

Hermione snorted, but asked Kingsley, ""Have we got any leads?"

Kingsley shrugged. "The Order's in disagreement. Some think it's inconclusive: wherever they are, they're well-hidden. And we're estimating he's got over a thousand Death Eaters with him."

"Shite," someone muttered. "Good thing they haven't tried to take us head-on!"

"So it's magically concealed on its own power," said Marianne. "Even Stonehenge couldn't shield that many of them from detection."

"Not Hogwarts either," added Ron.

"What if it's not your garden-variety magical concealment?" O'Rourke suggested. "What if it's something completely…separated. Separated from our plane."

"What are you thinking, Valinor?" Roger laughed.

"Never-Never Land," suggested Ron, grinning.

Kingsley chuckled. "Interesting idea, but I can't see Voldemort gaining entry to Valinor, even if the Valar weren't there anymore. Don't think he's their kind of people."

Amid everyone else's laughter, something klunked into place in Hermione's mind, and she sucked in her breath. _The dream!_ The others fell silent and stared at her.

"Hermione?" Viktor asked.

Feeling a coldness inside at the possibilities of what it all meant, Hermione looked back at him. "Not Valinor," she breathed. "Avalon. He's in Avalon."

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _The island of Avalon is a fortress of two magics than could spell the end of everyone if it has fallen into Voldemort's hands. But Hermione and the Order soon realize that the causes of this war go back further in history than they ever imagined in Chapter Five: Arthur's Sister!_

**PLEASE don't forget to review!**


	5. Arthur's Sister

_**A/N: **First of all, thank you to all of my readers so very much for your incredible patience. This final semester of law school has been absolute hell—but now, at long, LONG last, I am done. DONE. I graduate on May 22nd. Still have to take the Bar Exam, but as far as law school goes, I am finished and free. Never thought I'd see the day! And to celebrate, I have a double-update for your reading pleasure! **Dumbledore's Men** is also updated today! Enjoy!_

**Chapter Five: Arthur's Sister**

Everyone started talking at once. "You think Voldemort could take Avalon?"

"You think Voldemort could _find_ Avalon?"

"I dunno if Avalon is any more accessible from this world than Valinor."

"And even if it is, Salazar was famous for scorning Christian magic. I don't think his heir would try to use it."

"As the means to an end? He might. Avalon was the focal point of _two_ magical forces—two opposing ones at that. If Voldemort could take it, it'd be worth leaving Stonehenge."

"HOLD, people!" Kingsley bellowed over them all. He tilted his head thoughtfully at Hermione. "That possibility has come up, and a lot of us at Headquarters think it has merit—we're hoping not, of course, since it means big trouble for us. But it begs the question: how the hell do _we _find Avalon?"

"If it's still located in a real place, there must be some evidence," said Marianne, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. Viktor was watching her, and Hermione guiltily found herself wishing that the roof would collapse on Marianne. "They've been investigating St. Michael's Mount and Glastonbury Tor for centuries."

"Glastonbury's not even an island."

"It got discredited anyway. I like St. Michael's Mount as a possibility, but if Avalon's there, nobody's ever found it."

Hermione bit her lip, debating how to bring up her dream, when she looked across the table and saw Harry's face. His green eyes were troubled as he met her gaze, and even as she realized he knew what she was thinking, he stood up. "Hermione's right."

_They always shut up for Harry, _she thought, without rancor.

"You're sure?" Kingsley asked. Harry nodded, his eyes not quite focused. "Dream?"

"Yeah. Last night." Hermione blinked. Not that prophetic dreams and visions were anything new to Harry, but that had been her first, and it couldn't be a coincidence if she and Harry had both dreamed of Avalon. But then…why would a dream like that come to her?

"What did you see?" Kingsley was asking Harry, with a wary expression. The Order had long since gotten used to Harry as a soldier, despite his age and his recklessness, but his visions still made most of them nervous.

"An island. Shining. The air was full of magic. It's close to the shore."

"Blimey, that's vague."

"Shh!"

Harry went on, "I know something's calling me there, but I didn't see anyone. It looked deserted." He gave a mischievous grin. "And Hermione's seen it too—haven't you?"

Everyone turned to stared at her, and she shot him a glare, but nodded. "I had a dream about it last night too. I didn't realize it was Avalon until just now, when we were talking. But someone was definitely calling me there; I'm certain of that. Only…" she searched her memory. "The person calling…she's not there anymore."

"She?" Half the room interrupted.

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "It was a 'she,' I just know it. It was like she was…sending me there, because she couldn't be there anymore. I don't know, it's just a feeling."

"Hey, how come you two are getting all the prophetic dreams?" Ron demanded. Harry cuffed him, grinning, but then he turned serious (or as serious as Ron ever got, anyway). "If Harry and Hermione are both having dreams where someone's telling them to get themselves to Avalon, we better get them to Avalon."

"Anyone else having interesting dreams they'd like to inform us of?" Roger asked.

"Only about my wife," said Giovanni, and everyone laughed. Several of the men made lewd noises, and Marianne and Hermione giggled. Ron leered at Giovanni, then saw Viktor smiling at Hermione and scowled.

Hermann snorted and shook his head at Kingsley. "It vould appear that ve vill be going to Avalon."

"I think you're right." They looked at Harry and Hermione in turn. "Anything in those dreams to give us a clue where the place is?"

Harry shrugged, and Hermione said thoughtfully, "The space between the island and the shore wasn't very large. More like a river or a big moat than a sea."

"St. Michael's Mount is not far off shore," said Alexiev.

"Glastonbury's inland," said O'Rourke. "But Avalon could have moved since Arthur's time."

"But were Potter and Granger dreaming of Avalon in Arthur's time or now?" someone pointed out.

"Argh!"

"Don't blame us; we didn't choose the dream!" Harry exclaimed.

"All right, all right, oy!" Kingsley said. "This calls for a report to Headquarters. Everyone hold tight."

He and Hermann vanished, and Hermione went around the table to sit with Harry and Ron. "D'you have any idea who was calling you?"

Harry pulled a face. "Nothing specific. If anything, it was…something not human."

"Voldemort?" Ron suggested, looking worried, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm sure of that. It was a lot…older. Not a person. Something…bigger."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and braced her knees against the table. "And that seems to be the only major difference between our two dreams. If it were Valinor, I'd say it was the Valar calling you," she quipped. Seeing her friends' baffled faces, she rolled her eyes. "You two never did read Lord of the Rings when we were assigned it in History of Magic, did you?"

"Well…" they began sheepishly.

"Valinor was the home of the Valar, who are considered the ancestral source of all magic. They created the magic peoples: the elves," she explained. Feeling someone watching her, she glanced sideways and met Viktor's dark eyes.

"Wizards are kinds of _elves_?" Harry exclaimed.

Hermione groaned, and Viktor scooted his chair over to them. "We were, but we are no longer. Humans gained magic when our ancestors crossed with the elves. They were a different race from the creatures called elves today."

"I remember a bit," Ron admitted.

"It is the origin of the term of 'pureblood,'" Viktor added. "In the most ancient history, only the men descended directly from elves possessed magic, while other men did not. They were the first wizards, and they ruled all men."

Harry snorted. "And here we are, fighting Voldemort."

"You're more right than you know," Hermione pointed out. "Wars over race and bloodline have been going on for thousands of years—not just between wizards either, but the Arthurian War was a wizard war. Arthur wasn't so much a king as a wizard warlord."

"Yeah, and he was a half-blood," Harry said. "I remember some of it. But it wasn't really about blood, there was something about ruling Muggles…"

"There were lots of reasons for that war," Hermione said. "It was the great war between Christian and pagan wizards as well—that's the reason Avalon was so powerful. Nobody ever managed to ground two fundamentally different forms of magic in one place before, and nobody has since."

"They are different, but not incompatible," Viktor said. "If they were, Avalon could not have anchored them both. That the people were at war does not mean the magics were."

"Oy?" said Ron.

Hermione shot Viktor a wry look. "Avalon was the stronghold of ancient pagan magic for hundreds, maybe thousands of years before Christianity came to Britain. When it did, the Christians wanted to push the pagans out, so they built a stronghold of their own there—an abbey, it's said—and anchored their power there. It held, but the pagan temple didn't lose its power like the Christians had hoped. They coexisted, even if their worshippers didn't follow their example."

"So where'd Avalon come from?" Harry asked.

"Who knows," Hermione replied, and yawned widely.

Ron grinned, "Someone hasn't had her third cup of coffee yet."

"Go snog a house elf, Ronald," she retorted, and went in search of a means of heating up some bathwater.

* * *

When Viktor got back from a shift on sentry duty, Shacklebolt and Hermann had orders. "We're to get back to Headquarters," Kingsley told them. "There'll be further instructions there."

"And off we shuffle," said O'Rourke. "They never tell us anything."

"That's right, detailed orders for Voldemort and his lot to get their hands on," Marianne said sarcastically.

Kingsley clapped his hands to forestall further arguments. "Enough chattering. Let's break this place down and be on our way! Sentries, keep your eyes open; this would be an easy time for Death Eaters to hit us."

"Such a cheery bloke," Viktor heard Ron saying to Hermione as they started Shrinking the gear.

Viktor and Alexiev got to work with Roger. "I'm hearing the Order's massing down there," he muttered to them.

"Is that a good idea?" Alexiev asked.

Roger shrugged. "Could just be a rumor. Or we could be getting new assignments."

"Or marching on Avalon like Muggles?" O'Rourke suggested as he went by.

Viktor grinned. "With drums and trumpets and flags." He was then treated to various attempts at demonstration by the others, using voices, bodies, and various handy pieces of metal.

"I personally like the idea," said a voice behind him, and Viktor moved hastily out of Hermione's way. "It seems braver than all this skulking around and ambushing."

"Braver for him or braver for us?" Harry demanded, pulling a face at her. He tossed his gear down and pulled out the silver sword he'd been carrying around. "Should I challenge Voldemort to a sword fight?"

"You'd probably win," Ron pointed out.

"En garde!" Hermione challenged Harry with a fire iron, and they only managed a few swings before she tripped over her own feet and crashed into Viktor's arms.

As everyone laughed and Hermann bellowed at them all to get back to work, Harry observed, "I think I won."

Viktor awkwardly maneuvered the giggling Hermione to her feet, his arm around her waist, and spotted Ron watching them. He hastened to detach himself and bent for a closer look at the sword. "Where did you get it?" He reached for it, but it clattered off the bags Harry had leaned it on.

"Don't break it," Ron said.

"It was Godric Gryffindor's," Harry began amiably, but when Viktor moved to right the weapon, it actually slid across the stone floor away from his hand. Viktor blinked, and Harry stepped forward. "What the…"

"Did that thing just move on its own?" Roger demanded. Ron and Hermione came closer, and Roger tried to pick the sword up, but he too couldn't seem to get his hand around the hilt. "Harry, what'd you do to it?"

"Me? I didn't do anything!" Harry protested. He picked the sword up and tried to hand it to Viktor, but the thing slipped away as though the hilt were covered in oil.

"I cannot touch it," Viktor said, fascinated. "It will not allow me anymore."

"You used it on Nagini," Hermione said.

"Maybe it's because you're not British," Marianne suggested, but neither she, nor Roger, nor O'Rourke had any luck. The sword would only suffer to be held by Harry. "Maybe just Gryffindors?"

"Ron, c'mere," Harry ordered, holding the sword out. By now, everyone in the base had gathered around to observe the strange event. Ron approached it as if it were a dangerous animal, but the sword dropped out of Harry's hand as he made to pass it over and clattered to the ground at the younger boy's feet.

Everyone stared at it with some trepidation. Then they all looked at each other.

"Weird," was Kingsley Shacklebolt's final pronouncement.

* * *

An hour later, they were walking to the Apparition Point a mile away. Harry had the sword fastened to his belt, and Ron and some of the others were amusing themselves by reaching toward it and watching it swing away—and usually tripping Harry up as a result.

"Knock off!"

"Cut the horseplay, you lot!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked closer to Viktor—well, to be fair, he had been getting progressively closer to her. "They never grow up."

"Someone should be allowed to have amusement in all this," he told her mildly. She shrugged. "Will your family be at Headquarters?"

"Not mine, they're in hiding. They couldn't fight this war anyway; they're Muggles," Hermione said. "Ron's family should be there, though. We haven't seen them in months. His mum's going to throw a complete wobbler about us having been gone so long," she added, grinning.

"You cannot blame her for worrying."

"No, I'm looking forward to it. I just hope Ginny's there."

Viktor frowned. "Ginny, Ron's sister?"

Hermione nodded and lowered her voice. "For Harry, I mean."

A rush of some strange feeling went through Viktor at Hermione's sly implication, but he managed to do no more than raise his eyebrows. "She and Harry are together?"

"More or less. They can't exactly go out in conditions like this, but she's been mad about him for years, and he finally wised up to it about a year ago. I think she's right for him," Hermione said, sounding very satisfied. "He's afraid of what Voldemort might try to do to her, to get to him, but she doesn't scare easily."

As their column squelched on through the mud—not unlike a Muggle march, he mused—Viktor remarked, "It must be difficult for them. Giovanni has not seen his wife in longer than a year. She too is a Muggle in hiding by our people. It is the only way to keep her safe."

"I suppose writing to her isn't an option from here?"

"Very rarely. He sends a letter each time we move on."

"Well," Hermione smiled fondly at the two boys up ahead. "Harry has an easier way of keeping in touch with Ginny." At Viktor's questioning look, she explained, "Something his father and godfather left to him. But they don't use it often, in case Voldemort's lot get clued in somehow. He hasn't talked to her since we went after Nagini."

Whatever Viktor thought to say next about how long people had been separated was forestalled by Shacklebolt bellowing, "All right, you lot, form up!"

"Where to?"

"Hogsmeade!"

"I do not know if I remember the way to Hogsmeade," Viktor blurted.

"It's all right; we're taking you Side-Along. Here," Hermione took his arm. Viktor couldn't help meeting her eyes as they stepped away from the rest of the group, while everyone else split into pairs.

"Granger, Potter, Weasley, Apparate out with the first group!"

"Yessir!"

"Right, then! First group, go!"

It didn't occur to Viktor to be nervous, although he disliked being the passenger in a Side-Along Apparition. Perhaps if his pilot had been someone other than Hermione Granger, he would have been nervous. The world re-formed on the edge of Hogsmeade village. "Headquarters is Hogwarts, then?" he asked her.

"Official Headquarters, at any rate," she replied. "Voldemort hasn't even bothered to try and take it. Dumbledore provided for us when he…" Her face fell. Viktor put a hand on her shoulder, and she sighed. "Don't worry about me," she said quietly, answering his unspoken words. "I…I hurt when he died, I don't deny it, but it was worse for Harry. Much worse." They watched Harry appear with Ron by his side, each having Apparated alone. The two were making rude jokes about Splinching, looking almost as young as Viktor remembered them. Perhaps Hermione was seeing it the same.

"Has Harry got over your Headmaster's death?" he asked Hermione delicately.

Shaking her head, Hermione looked grimly at him. "No. Not even close—oh, I know he looks well now, but there are times, lots of times when…" Her eyes were dark with emotion. "He never got over Cedric's death either, if not the loss itself, then the manner of it. The…carelessness of the killing. His part in it." Viktor grimaced, and she smiled ruefully, "I don't need to tell you it's pointless to try and convince Harry otherwise."

"Always he was prone to taking too much on himself, I remember," Viktor said, trying for humor and failing. Hermione was too unsettled.

"Sirius's death tore him apart. Sirius Black was his only family. Because of the thrice-damned Ministry, we couldn't even have a funeral. By the time he was exonerated, too much was happening. Not that there was a body to bury." Hermione shivered.

"What happened to him?" Viktor asked, unable to help himself.

"He fell through an archway in a chamber in the Department of Mysteries during a fight. Right in front of Harry. The archway had a veil hanging from it that…"

"—leads to Death," Viktor finished, astonished. "I did not know your Ministry had such a thing. Where did they get it?"

Hermione blinked at his vehemence. "I…well, I don't know, really, we just passed through the Death Chamber during the fight—it's a long story."

His manners catching up to him, Viktor put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. For Harry. And for you."

She smiled at him, wisps of dark hair escaping her plaits. "You don't need to worry about me, Viktor. I've been lucky in this war. My family is very small, and they're hidden well. Whatever this new campaign of Voldemort's is, it's got him distracted from sending his friends on their regular feedings. Fewer murders, haven't you noticed?"

"There have been lulls before, but with hope this may yet be a good sign," Viktor said. Hermione paced along the deserted facades of the abandoned village, waiting for the rest of the teams to Apparate in. He threw subtlety to the wind and caught her arm. "Why are you so afraid now? What has changed?"

She stared into his eyes for several long moments, then found them a wooden bench not completely rotted by the recent rains. Viktor saw, over Hermione's shoulder, Ron Weasley watching them, but he paid it no heed. Keeping her voice low, Hermione told him, "Harry's instincts, his 'gut feelings', there's really no denying their accuracy. Broad or narrow, helps us in the skirmishes a lot, but broad…" She took a deep breath and said, "If you could see all the visions and dreams that came to Harry when he was fourteen and fifteen, you'd see a greater pattern emerging: Voldemort rising, gaining power."

"I well believe it," Viktor said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But now you say there is something new. New concerning Harry?"

She looked away, at the awnings flapping loosely in the wind over their abandoned shops, the boarded-up windows. "Harry's getting set on the idea that this is going to be the end of the war—a confrontation between him and Voldemort, direct, at Avalon. I want to think he's just being overblown again, but…I can't."

Viktor regarded her thoughtfully. "If you too are dreaming of Avalon, then perhaps it is your own instinct as well, telling you the war will end there. Are you not glad?"

"Well…yes and no."

"You are afraid Harry will die."

Hermione pulled a face. "I'm afraid a lot of people will die."

"Do your feelings tell you nothing else?" Viktor prompted. "Nothing that is cause for hope in the end?"

"Well…" She thought for a moment, then smiled faintly. "I feel like…almost that I know that…we're going to win?" She made it like a question, but Viktor understood why.

The rest of the teams had finished Apparating. "All right, people, let's move!"

Viktor glanced over his shoulder as they trooped their way up the Hogsmeade road. "The village has been abandoned?"

"Not abandoned," Hermione said. "At least I hope not. But nobody goes out in public anymore if they can avoid it. Diagon Alley's shut down too. A lot of the Death Eater attacks on wizards are just crimes of opportunity anymore. Even the twins have closed up shop."

"Who?"

"Ron's brothers, Fred and George," she clarified, gesturing in Ron's direction. "You remember from the Tournament—the bookies?"

Viktor grinned, "Ah, yes. They have a shop?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They opened it in Diagon Alley two years ago—didn't I write you about it? No? Hm, well, there was a lot going on that year, I suppose." The walk up the hill to Hogwarts was not exactly strenuous, but Viktor could not resist taking Hermione's arm. She did not object. "They were doing well too, until Diagon Alley was hit last August. They still send some stuff out by Owl order, but most of the time they're too busy with the Order."

Searching his memory, Viktor asked, "Was it they who made the sweets that caused tongues to swell and turned people into canaries?"

"Yes!" Hermione laughed. "Yes, those were some of their first inventions; I didn't know you got one!"

"Not me," he said, with mock-aloofness. "Alexiev. It was the morning before the Yule Ball. He was in a panic that they would not wear off in time."

Alexiev turned and stared in confusion when they both began to laugh at him. Viktor spotted Ron looking over his shoulder at them, but Harry grabbed the red-haired boy's arm and pulled him along.

Then they were over the hill on Hogwarts grounds, which looked both the same and different from what Viktor remembered. He and his teammates faltered at the sight of figures running towards them, but the Order members were not alarmed. Rather, many of them dropped their gear and went pelting to meet their families.

"RONALD WEASLEY, I SHOULD GIVE YOU THE HIDING OF YOUR LIFE FOR FRIGHTENING US LIKE THAT!" A small woman grabbed Ron by the shoulders and began shaking him vigorously as Harry laughed. Even if Viktor had not recognized her from three years before, there would be no mistaking her as Ron's mother. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT WE'VE GONE THROUGH—and YOU, Harry Potter!" She released Ron with one hand and grabbed Harry by the ear, getting a yell of protest. "_WHERE_ HAVE YOU _BEEN?_"

They kept walking toward the scene, but Hermione stepped back behind Viktor, giggling. "She'll start on me if she sees me."

Ron managed to detach himself when he and Harry were swarmed by a small army of redheads, undoubtedly his father and brothers, and Viktor spotted a girl among them, who went for Harry instead. "Sure it was all Ron's fault, Mum," she said, and pulled Harry out of the irate Mrs. Weasley's grasp to embrace him. The two of them bent their heads together, whispering something, even as the rest of the Weasleys came to greet Harry.

Hermione finally decided that a scolding from Ron's mother was inevitable and ran ahead to meet the family, where she was showered with kisses and embraces as if she were another daughter. Viktor followed more slowly, wondering awkwardly if he should re-introduce himself, but then he spotted a familiar—or rather, unforgettable—platinum blonde head among the red-haired crowd. "Fleur?"

"Viktor Krum!"

His former fellow Champion had not lost her Veela Charm, but she looked older, more like a goddess now than a fairy. It was Harry who pulled out of the crowd and motioned Viktor over. "You remember Krum?" he asked Ginny.

The pretty girl's eyes twinkled mischievously, "Sure, I do. Does _Hermione_ know he's here?"

"Yes, Hermione knows!" Hermione growled at them from somewhere in the flock of Weasleys.

Fleur kissed him on both cheeks. "I am happy to see you again," she said. "You have met Bill, my husband?"

"Only once," said Bill, shaking Viktor's hand. "Welcome back." Viktor might not have been able to place Bill at all, but for his long hair and the fang hanging from his ear. Everyone bore a scar or two from some skirmish in the past few years, but Bill Weasley seemed to have been on the receiving end of something very nasty. His entire face was lined.

"I am sorry to have missed your wedding," Viktor told them.

Fleur waved his apology off. "It was rather fast, in ze end. Many things were happening."

Kingsley and Hermann were walking into the castle in the company of several Aurors and Professor McGonagall. The team leaders seemed content to let the rest of the group visit with their friends out on the grounds.

"Hogwarts is still secure," Viktor remarked.

"Still," said Fleur. "Zere are few safe places left here, but Hogwarts is one. It shelters many of our people."

"Your family is here?"

"Yes. Zey are safe." Fleur sighed. "As safe as anyone can be."

* * *

Once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley resumed fussing over and yelling at Ron, Hermione pulled herself out of the mob. She spotted Ginny keeping a firm arm around Harry, and grinned to herself. For all Harry's efforts to distance himself, once Ginny'd got her hands on him, there was no way she was letting him go. She was as stubborn as he was.

Giovanni, O'Rourke, and some of the other team members who weren't so fortunate to have their families here were opting to go into the castle rather than watch the reunion. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for them.

_Speaking of which… _She was moving away from them, rummaging around in her pack for a parchment and quill to write a letter to her parents when she noticed everyone gathering 'round as if watching some kind of confrontation. Ron's indignant voice reached her.

"Think you'd better 'fess up as to your intentions, my lad!"

Viktor answered, sounding amused. "I am sure I do not know of whom you speak."

_Oh, buggeration!_ Hermione dropped her rucksack and started back toward them. Confirming her suspicion, Roger and some of the others on the edge of the group looked at her and grinned.

She shoved her way into the group and saw Ron toe-to-toe with Viktor, which was rather funny as Viktor had a good six inches on Ron—who was by no means short himself, but who also had to be a good fifty kilos lighter. She would have giggled if it hadn't been for what Ron was having the unmitigated gall to challenge Viktor about.

"You know what I mean! What are you up to with Hermione?"

Viktor, fortunately, was more amused than irritated. "Why do you not ask her? She can speak for herself, no?"

"I'm asking YOU."

Viktor raised his eyebrows, then saw Hermione behind Ron, and his lips quirked. "I think it is not your business. Unless you are her next of kin and no one has told me."

"As good as!" Ron retorted, puffing his chest out.

_Arrogant little berk!_ "Ron…" Harry muttered, seeing Hermione, but Ron wasn't done.

"Hermione's like a sister to me!"

Hermione folded her arms and said loudly, "Well!" Ron spun around. "I wish you'd told me that before we shagged!"

A collective whoop of laughter took half the observers to the ground, Ron turned the color of a tomato, Harry shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears, and even Viktor blushed. Hermione smirked, wider still when Mrs. Weasley shrieked, "RONALD WEASLEY!"

Ron tried to run for it, but his mother caught him by the ear as the twins started whistling. Satisfied, Hermione took herself away.

Viktor caught up with her. "I am sorry," he said sheepishly. "I did not want to insult him."

"Not to worry, that's my prerogative," she replied. Viktor blinked, evidently having needed a moment to realize that she hadn't been lying back there. "What?" She lifted her chin.

"Nothing," he said quickly, and she withheld a snort only through sheer willpower. _Men._

Viktor was clearly flailing around for a way out of that conversation, and didn't wind up succeeding very well. "You are much older than I remember."

_Blimey, thanks!_ But she grinned. "And you aren't?" She watched Harry and Ginny break away from the milling Order and make for the lake. _Those two are so predictable._ Then she sighed and shoved her vindictive mood away. "It's been a lot longer than three years, Viktor."

Viktor echoed her sigh. "You are right," he agreed. "It has been long since any of us was young."

Hermione nodded. Sunlight flashed on the lake, catching her eye, and she could see the silhouettes of Harry and Ginny, no doubt in search of some shrubbery to hide behind so they could commence snogging…

* * *

_Sunlight glared in her eyes, and she was standing in another world._

_She stared down the shoreline, across the water to the island, the island that filled her with a great longing. To be back there. To be home. The island was her home as this place would never be._

_But on this shore, her heart was bound as well. There was a boy, some paces away, also staring across the water. He didn't look at her, but she felt as if she knew him. She belonged with him. She was supposed to be something for him._

_A dark figure appeared, against the sun. She squinted, trying to see his face, but his towering form came toward the boy, ignoring her altogether. She wanted to shout a warning; an instinct made her want to protect this boy, but she couldn't move or speak. But the stranger didn't harm him, merely touched his shoulder and the boy turned away from her altogether._

_Hermione felt the urge to cry out again, but not from fear. At least, not only fear. It was grief, and also outrage—how dare he! He had no right! She hated that man, and she did not want to see the boy go away with him._

_But they went, and she stood there, paralyzed. A warning was rising in her throat, from somewhere deep inside herself._

"_He has the power to save you or destroy you. You put your life forever in his hands."_

_Had she said it? Had she warned him?_

_She couldn't be sure._

_She didn't want to see what lay beyond. She wanted to go home to the island, but not alone. Not alone forever. There was no one else to understand her._

_No one else to love her._

_Without him, she would always be alone…_

_But she could see the future as clear as the sun on the water. There was blood on this shore, everywhere. It was at her feet._

_The boy was here somewhere; she knew it. And there was something she needed for him—she started to run down to the water, searching…_

_The dark man was there. She stopped. He was holding something out to her, something that flashed in the sunlight, and she winced. It might be too late to save him, and it was all the dark man's fault!_

_She didn't want to go near him; she hated him. But it was the only way to save the boy, and beyond the dark man, she could see eternity stretching: her blood, his blood, a fate like a curse that stretched on forever and ever._

_The dark man moved toward her…she could almost see his face…she strained…_

"_I did not make him. You cannot blame me."_

"_But you killed him!"_

"_It was not his choice or yours." He didn't seem to notice her anger. He didn't care. She wanted to hurt him._

"_There was no escape," the dark man told her. "He was chosen, as were you. You can never escape."_

"_You abandoned him! You're to blame for what happened to him!"_

_She had no idea if she herself had spoken, and the sunlight was coming across his face to reveal it…_

_Hands grabbed her from behind, voices…she screamed. They could not stop her, she had to—_

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione, what is wrong?" Arms were wrapped around her and someone was yelling in her ear as she bucked and screamed.

The next thing she knew, there was hard ground under her back, and she was staring, gasping, into a pair of dark eyes. They were familiar…she coughed; her throat was dry. "Viktor?" she rasped.

Voices were shouting. She could feel the ground vibrating under her head as footsteps thumped nearby. She turned and saw figures rushing toward them. "What the hell happened?"

"I dunno!"

"Is she all right?"

"What's wrong with Harry?"

"Did they both…"

"Shut up, shut up! Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione blinked and let Viktor pull her into a sitting position. They were still on the hill at Hogwarts above the lake, and half the Order was surrounding them. Another crowd was gathering near the water's edge. "What happened?"

"You and Harry went nutters at the exact same time," said one of the twins.

Ron and Ginny were walking a dazed-looking Harry up the hill toward them. Viktor kept an arm around her. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, still confused, her heart still pounding from what she thought she remembered. "No, I…don't think so." She couldn't even be sure how much time had passed. It was as if she had disappeared into another world. "What did you…"

"You just started staring into space," said Fred.

"Harry too," Ginny said. Hermione looked at him, and her heart sped up again. Harry looked as disoriented as she felt, but at this moment she had a terrible sense that she had glimpsed some awful fate for him. "I wasn't close enough, but I saw you up here…you started screaming, and Harry—he reacted like something attacked him, sort of jerking around—then you both fainted."

Hermione's heart lurched, and she thought for a minute she was going to vomit. Then a lump rose in her throat, and she couldn't look at Harry anymore. Ron moved into her line of vision, watching her with solemn eyes. "What'd you see?" She just shook her head. "Hermione?"

It must have been showing on her face, because everyone had fallen very quiet. Headmistress McGonagall appeared, nudging Ron and Viktor gently out of the way, and took her by the shoulders. "Hermione, my dear, you must tell us what you saw."

She started to shake. "There's a dark man," she choked out. Sobs tightened her throat. "I dunno…who…he's at Avalon—or he was—and he goes away and takes him and I told him not to go but he went anyway, and I…"

"Who? What's she talking about?"

"Leave her alone." It was Harry, staring at the ground. Hermione's vision blurred with tears as he staggered to his feet and shook off supporting hands. "It doesn't change anything. We still need to go." He walked off.

"Uh, somebody fill us in?" said George. Hermione didn't. She scrambled up and went in the opposite direction.

Viktor followed her, but the rest of the Order let her go. The Headmistress must have held them back. Hermione threw herself onto a convenient cushion of dead leaves at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She heard Viktor's steps come up behind her, but he stopped a few feet away. "Your vision is not of the future?"

"Mm-mm." She rested her forehead on her arm, breathing in the scent of the earth.

She heard the leaves crunch as he sat down nearby. "It was the past. You and Harry, you have been linked in some way. Some other life."

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." She looked up and saw Harry coming through the trees toward her, flanked by Ron and Ginny. He looked calm now, almost…resigned. "I think I know what I saw—no way could you not know."

Tears spilled down her face as she looked at him. Looking in frustration from one of them to the other, Ron was practically jumping up and down. "But what DID you see?"

"The end, isn't it?" Ginny said. "You saw how the war's going to end."

Viktor got up. "That is not certain. They have seen the past, but fate will not be the same in every path. It may not end now as it did then."

Hermione sat up and rubbed her face. "Maybe not. I just know something's going to happen at Avalon; there's someone there waiting, and I don't know who he is, and I don't trust him."

"I know," Harry said, dropping to the ground next to her. "The dark man. I couldn't see his face either."

Sunlight filtered down through the forest canopy onto Ginny's face. She'd gone pale and quiet. "That sword. The one only you can touch," she said to Harry. "Where'd Gryffindor get it?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea. Why?"

Hermione looked him in the eyes. "All the Gryffindor symbols…etching his name on the blade and all…he went to a great deal of trouble to declare it _his_, didn't he?"

"You think he didn't make the sword," Ginny mused. "That he stole it?"

"Stole, or just wanted to make sure nobody knew what it really was," said Hermione. "It wouldn't be the first time someone got insanely possessive of Excalibur."

Ron finally caught up. "What, you think Harry's been…bloody _reincarnated_ or something? From King Arthur?"

"He wasn't a king," Hermione muttered. "But it'd explain Avalon."

"It is not as simple a thing," Viktor told Ron. "It is not reincarnation, but fate. A fate that does not end—the chosen one, against evil." Ron looked dubious. "Arthur the Great fought to stop the dominion of Mordred over the world, did he not? For all our history, these wars are fought."

"Well…nobody can make up their bloody mind whether purebloods should be in charge or not," Ron protested, shooting Harry a frantic glance. Harry didn't meet his eyes.

Hermione looked at the sky. It was getting stronger now, in the back of her mind, the feeling of some memory that wasn't quite a memory, intruding into her consciousness. A personality that both was and wasn't her own. And a terrible, dreading sense of inevitability. "It always involves the same bloodline, Ron. Mordred's went back to the War of the Ring—that's what it was really about. The same bloodline always fighting the same war—it's not a coincidence."

"Okay, so Voldemort's the heir of Slytherin and Harry's the heir of Arthur," Ron said impatiently. "Why do you both look like the world's about to end?"

Hermione didn't answer, but Harry knew. "Because the woman who's in Hermione's visions is Morgan le Fey. Morgana, remember?"

"But I thought she was dark," said Ron. "That's what it says on her Chocolate Frog card, anyway. She was Merlin's enemy. She can't be your ancestor…can she? You're Muggleborn, Hermione."

"A lot of Muggleborns have a wizard or witch ancestor somewhere," said Ginny. "That doesn't rule it out."

Hermione nodded. "And nobody really knew why she hated Merlin. But from what I saw…" Her throat tightened. "It was Merlin who guided Arthur against Mordred. Morgana was a Healer, and she was mistress of Avalon; she brought Arthur back there after the battle." She couldn't look at Harry; a horrible, bleak despair was filling her. "She couldn't save him, Ron! Avalon is where Arthur died!"

_**To be continued…**_

_**Coming Soon: **The war against Voldemort is but one in a long chain of struggles between dark and light. Now the voices from those past wars are reaching forward in time to the ones fighting now, and they could mean victory or destruction for our heroes in Chapter Six: Echoes!_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!**


	6. Echoes

**_A/N:_** _Once again, I thank my dear readers for your infinite patience. I am now preparing for that legendary professional horror, that trial by fire of which nightmares are made—the Bar Exam. I'll be taking it toward the end of July, but hoping to continue reasonably regular updates for you._

**_Canon Explanation:_** _I'm aware that all the history in this story may be hard to follow for those of you who haven't read The Lord of the Rings or who don't know the legend of King Arthur. This isn't a crossover per se, just a shared history._

_Here's the rundowns: according to Lord of the Rings_ _and its prequels and sequels, the kings of Middle Earth came from a legendary continent called Numenor that was sunk into the sea, and they went on to fight against an evil Dark Lord for several generations, until their last descendent, Aragorn, took up their ancient sword, renamed it, and defeated the Dark Lord for the last time, bringing peace for many years. _

_The Arthur legend as I'm using it goes thus: Arthur, pupil of Merlin, pulled the sword Excalibur from a stone by the hilt and won the throne of ancient Britain, married Guinevere, who became his queen, and formed the knights of the round table. But Arthur himself was the bastard son of a previous king—his nephew (some versions say son, but I'm going with nephew) Mordred challenged Arthur's rule and a war broke out. Arthur's side won, but Arthur died shortly after the battle. His half-sister was Morgan le Fey (aka Morgana), who ruled Avalon with the help of the Lady of the Lake, a magical woman-being who tutored knights in some legends and fell in love with Merlin in others. (In the legends I've read, she's gone by four different names, but I'm making her four different people instead.) Morgana buried Arthur at Avalon. According to JKR, she was a bird Animagus and a healer. To this day, historians are still trying to figure out where the Real World location of Avalon is._

**Chapter Six: Echoes**

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione for a long time. Finally, he said in a perfectly calm voice, "Don't be stupid."

"Ron—"

"Just because King Ruddy Arthur died fifteen centuries ago doesn't mean Harry's going to!" he snapped, outraged. Glaring at Hermione, he added, "And if the…spirit, ghost, or whatever that's sending you visions is Morgana, than you shouldn't trust her."

He stalked off. Hermione and the others watched him go. "Well. He took that well, didn't he?" Ginny said dryly.

"You believe it?" Harry asked her.

She frowned at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were descended from Arthur somehow, but I do think Ron's got a point about Morgana. She was pretty famous for hating Merlin."

"He abandoned her brother," Hermione said without thinking. "He gave Arthur the advice to fight Mordred, but then he backed out of the war. Arthur was all she had; she was completely alone after he died."

"And I know for a fact that's not on her Chocolate Frog card," Ginny sighed.

"The dark man in the visions is Merlin," Harry said. He looked at Hermione. "I've seen you—or maybe it's Morgana—there too." He grimaced. "I heard you screaming. But he told me it was my fight, only…it wasn't only him. Something else was telling me too."

Hermione nodded. "He told me—or her—that it wasn't our choice. Something about how he didn't make you. She still blamed him. I can't say I really blame her; I'm starting to think Merlin wasn't so great a wizard as we all thought."

Viktor sat down in front of them. "I think you are fearing them all too much." The three of them stared at him. "We learned better of Divination and fate at Durmstrang than you here at Hogwarts." Hermione had to smile at that—he had a point. "Fate may lead us to a place, but still it is our choices that take us to the end." To Harry, he said, "It may be you are chosen as Arthur and Elessar to fight evil. But you cannot be destined to die. You will have many choices to lead you to your end." To Hermione, he went on, "And you are called to Harry's side for a reason. Perhaps it is Morgana, or perhaps it is Merlin. But dreams such as these are not idle; you choose how you will act."

Harry listened to him thoughtfully, then got up and said, "I'm going to go talk to Ron." Ginny patted Hermione on the knee and followed Harry out of the forest.

When their footsteps died away, Hermione smiled weakly at Viktor. "I guess that would explain why I've only ever thought of Harry as my brother."

Coming to sit right beside her, Viktor said quietly, "Do not assume you will lose him."

"I'm not assuming anything!" she whispered, tears prickling her eyes again. "I'm just…afraid. There's always been a chance…he's been in danger all his life. Voldemort _could_ kill him!"

"None of us will abandon him. And…" Viktor met her eyes. "And you will not be left alone."

"You said we can't know the future," she pointed out. "How do you?"

"I do not know it," he replied. "I believe it."

The forest was silent around them; no wind blew, no birds sang. Hermione felt as if the barrier between the past and the present and the future was starting to fade, making her remember things from centuries ago as if they'd happened to her. "I guess it doesn't surprise me that Harry would be descended from kings. I just never thought…"

"You do not surprise me," Viktor said. Hermione raised her eyebrows, and he smiled. "As Morgana's heir, by blood or fate? Arthur is the more famous, but Morgana held Avalon. Her power and wisdom must have been very great."

* * *

The Order gathered in the Great Hall to hear what Professor McGonagall and the other leaders had decided. "We are dispatching four teams of twenty to search for Avalon. The remainder of our forces will wait here at Hogwarts for news." 

"A team of twenty isn't going to last long if they run into resistance," said Bill Weasley.

"It's a reconnaissance mission only. Your aim is to find them before we engage them," Kingsley replied.

"Have we got any intel on which site is the most likely?" asked Roger.

McGonagall shook her head. "Nothing. However, I doubt we may assume they have gone to ground. They have no reason to hide. Therefore, those assigned to the teams must use extreme caution."

"Constant vigilance," Hermione heard Ron mutter behind her. She smiled.

Harry raised his hand. "Are Hermione, Ron, and I on any of the teams?"

The Headmistress looked at each of them before saying, "That is up to you. I would prefer not to risk you until we have a better idea of where Voldemort is and what he is up to, but there's little doubt that the three of you are in the best position to find him."

Hermione turned in her seat and raised her eyebrows at Ron. He shrugged. "I'm not the one having visions."

At the front of the room, McGonagall smiled faintly. "The rest of you, check for your posted assignments. The teams leave at five o'clock tomorrow morning. That is all."

The Great Hall broke up into chatter. Viktor turned to Hermione. "Does the Order always defer to you and Harry?"

She laughed. "Hardly. But Harry at least has an annoying habit of always being right, so they've gradually let him go. He also has an annoying habit of ignoring anyone who tells him to do anything he doesn't want. Headstrong little berk."

"And you and Ron?"

"We stay with Harry," she said firmly.

"Even when you think he is wrong?"

"Someone has to keep him from getting himself killed!"

If Viktor had any doubts on that score, he thought better of voicing them. An awkward silence fell between them until Alexiev waved to him. "I will see you later?"

Hermione nodded. As Viktor walked away, leaving her alone, Hermione felt a premonitory shiver. It was as if the sight and sound of the Great Hall blurred, and she was no longer entirely there. The area around her seemed hazy, as though she were dreaming and nobody was really real.

Then she could see one person clearly, standing out in the foggy unreality. In front of her, where he'd been sitting during the meeting, was Harry, only…not. He was looking back at her, not moving, yet she had a fearful feeling that he was getting further away and there was no way she could follow.

"Hermione?"

Someone touched her arm, and she jumped. It was Fleur. Shaken, she looked back and met Harry's bleak eyes. Whatever had just happened to her, he had seen it too, and it felt as ominous to him as it did to her. He said nothing as he, Ron, and Ginny joined her, but they both knew it had happened again.

"Bill and I are assigned to Glastonbury," Fleur told them. "Will you not come with us?"

Harry said, "I dunno." At their surprised expressions (Harry was almost never indecisive), he explained, "I don't know what the visions mean anymore, let alone where Avalon's supposed to be." With a shrug, he walked away. Ginny hurried after, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Fleur watching in dismay.

"You shouldn't have told him all that rot about King Arthur," Ron muttered at her.

"I'm not the only one who's seen it," she replied. Ron looked doubtful. "And I don't think that's the only vision he's having anymore."

Ron opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Fleur looked at Hermione. "Harry is afraid?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It may just be that he doesn't know what to do now."

"Harry? Not likely," Ron finally said. He pulled a face. "He's holding out on us again, I bet."

"I hadn't thought of that," Hermione mused. "Although I would have thought us threatening to kill him if he did it again had made him think better of keeping secrets."

"When does that ever stop him, stubborn little git!"

Hermione felt as if some gap in time and space had opened up between herself and the others. It was a foregone conclusion that everything was changing now; it wasn't just a case of Harry being close-mouthed, no matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise. Or maybe it was…and for the first time, Hermione could see the world through Harry's eyes.

_How has he managed to survive years of living this way, knowing more than anyone else about what's coming next? _It had only been a few days since her first prophetic dream, but she already hated it. She felt separated from everyone she used to be able to lean on.

Ron was watching her, and read her expression. "Or maybe it's not Harry holding out this time," he said dryly.

"I'm not holding out on you," she mumbled.

"Then what's the matter?"

"I don't know!" To her horror, her throat tightened up. "Seriously, Ron, I don't. It's just…I have this feeling."

"Bloody hell, you really have caught the Harry Disease!"

"Do not tease her, Ronald," Fleur scolded. "She is distressed!" She put a hand on Hermione's shoulder and said, "It will all work out. Perhaps ze visions will have more answers for you or Harry soon. We must be patient. Bill and I leave with ze teams tomorrow; we may find Avalon, or you and Harry will see somehow ze way to find it."

Hermione forced a smile and covered Fleur's hand. "Be careful?"

"Of course!" Fleur sounded miffed.

Ron looked as if he didn't want to let them change the subject, but Hermione decided standing there arguing with him about feelings she couldn't explain would accomplish nothing. So she excused herself and made her way out of the milling Order members. There was no sign of Harry or Ginny, but she did get her first pleasant surprise in—well, months.

"Hermione!"

She turned around. "Professor Lupin!" The uncontested favorite Defense teacher made his way over to her, looking even more worn and tired than she remembered, but with a smile on his face. And with him… "Tonks! I thought you were dead!" she blurted before she could stop herself.

Lupin blinked, but Tonks laughed. "All evidence to the contrary, eh?"

Hermione hugged them both. "I'm so glad you're okay. Have you seen Harry? He'll want to know you're safe."

"Yes, and he said the same thing to her," said Lupin. He gestured at Tonks with his hand. "Somebody's wires got crossed on the casualties, obviously."

"It's a good mistake," Hermione said firmly.

Ron came over as Tonks and Remus walked away. "At least that's one bit of good news to be had."

Hermione nodded. "They said Harry's seen her."

"Yeah, he knows." Ron was silent for several moments, and Hermione turned and looked at him. "I didn't mean anything by it, you know."

She sighed and folded her arms. "I know, but you, Ronald Weasley, need to get it through your thick head that I am not in need of a minder. I'm not your sister, and I haven't been your girlfriend for quite some time."

His ears went red, as she'd known they would, but he looked sheepish rather than stubborn. "Hey, old habits die hard. I got used to looking after you."

"I think it was me looking after _you_, actually," she teased, but Ron seemed too serious to be distracted. So she waited, and he fumbled out what he wanted to talk about.

"It's not that I'm jealous of Krum—well, I am a little, I guess, but not that way, I mean…"

Hermione sighed. "I know." She smiled sadly. "Kind of hard for things to work out the way we imagine when we're on the run all the time."

"Yeah." Ron shuffled his feet, avoiding her eyes. "It was, y'know, nice. I mean, while it lasted." This time it was Hermione who blushed, well aware of what Ron had thought was "nice." "But, you know…I do think Krum's all right, I mean…if you and he…"

She supposed that she ought to be outraged, or at least annoyed, that Ron had the temerity to assume that she somehow needed or wanted his permission to be with Viktor. But somehow she couldn't seem to get angry; instead, she felt a rush of unexpected warmth for the red-haired boy who had been her best friend, partner in mischief, confidant, and even lover for years. He was letting her know, in his own awkward, typically-Ron-way, that he would still be the other things to her, no matter what the future held.

So she just smiled and kissed him on the cheek, earning a blush. "I'll see you later."

* * *

After receiving his assignment from the Order, Viktor found himself with time on his hands. But he wasn't on the mood to mingle among the others. Crowds of chattering people made it hard to think, everyone talking, moving about; Viktor greatly disliked it. He preferred peace and quiet, not that he had not lived in close quarters with his comrades for the better part of a year, but their numbers were small enough to manage, and their aim focused on the work in the field.

So he retreated as far from the bustle of the Great Hall as he could manage, and soon ended up in the library. Really, it didn't surprise him; although the stacks were dimly-lit, dusty, and neglected, he found the place comforting. Once there, immersed in the dry, musty smell of all the books and the sight of the tightly-lined shelves brought his mind back to a recollection of years before, when students had milled among the stacks and upset the concentration of their more studious classmates.

With that thought, he headed deep into the darkest section of the library that had not been restricted, where not even the faintest echo of the activity in the upper floors of the castle reached, until at last, he came to the old window alcove behind the oldest scroll collections. The table and chairs they had occupied were long-since gone. Viktor stood in the center of the alcove, gazing out the small window as the sunset turned the dull stone walls and faded carpet brilliant with shades of pink, peach, and gold, searching for some shadow of the innocent emotions that he recalled whenever he thought of this place. As if he could get back all that he'd lost by returning here.

But there was only silence, far deeper and emptier than the quiet that had surrounded them as they worked at the table here. The soft noises of the library had never troubled him; books absorbed much of the sound. Viktor went to the window and pressed his forehead to the glass, closing his eyes against the onslaught of grief, long-suppressed, that came surging to the front of his mind. What use was there in coming here, trying to seek solace in the memories that echoed only faintly in this place? That world was gone forever.

He was a fool to dwell on it. There was nothing left for him here.

"Viktor?"

He spun around. The empty, dusty stacks had absorbed the sound of Hermione's footsteps. He'd have had a chance to compose himself if he'd heard her coming.

She blinked at him. "What's wrong?"

Dry-throated, he rasped, "Nothing…I did not hear you…"

Hermione nodded, her eyes wandering around the small space. In the rich glow from the window, her skin and hair seemed to shine against the darkness of the library. He swallowed. "Did you study here much after the Triwizard Tournament?"

He was surprised by her answer. "I haven't been back since the day you left Hogwarts." Leaning in the entryway, she avoided his eyes.

Viktor caught her meaning anyway. "You were grieved?"

"We were all grieved for a lot of reasons," Hermione replied, but then she sighed. "I just couldn't. There was so much happening until school ended, so many people afraid, asking questions…the mourning for Cedric, and Harry so upset…I didn't want to be alone," she admitted. "Not all the way down here."

Somehow he knew she didn't mean that she had been afraid. "I too was lonely," he said quietly. "We were few who knew the truth that first year after Cedric was killed. I am thinking now it was wrong of us to go apart. Together we are stronger."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded, still looking at the walls rather than at him. "I think you're right. Well," she seemed to relax, apparently better at ease talking of old strategies than of old sorrows. "Just being together wasn't enough. Ron and I spent the summer at Order Headquarters with his family, but they still wouldn't _tell _us anything. And it was worst of all for Harry—locked up with those horrible relatives of his all summer, with what had happened at the Tournament just…festering." Her eyes darkened with remembered anger. "I still wonder where they got the idea that ignorance would protect him. Or any of us."

"But they do not keep you in ignorance now," Viktor hastened to remind her. "What is past cannot be changed, but we cannot believe the mistakes were fatal ones. For we are still alive."

"Right now," she said, pulling a face, then smiled wryly at him. "Sorry. I'm not being very positive."

"I am not troubled by it," he assured her. "The others are not here, and you need not pretend with me."

Hermione looked at him unguardedly then, with some semblance of anxiety, as if he had pulled some protection away from her and she could not be sure whether she would be hurt. "I do not mean to offend you," he said quickly.

"You don't," she blurted. "I just…do you pretend things? To make people feel better?"

"I believe we all do," he told her honestly. "It is not that things are much worse than all say—rather we all feel the same doubt and fear. When all are meant to work together it is best not to think of doubts. But we are not working now. Can you not speak of your fears to your friends alone?"

She was suddenly distressed, sinking to the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest. Viktor knelt in front of her, and she shook her head. "Who can I talk about doubt to? Ron? Harry? They each have enough to worry about."

"And your fears are for them," he concluded.

She gave him a watery smile. "You're a Legilimens, Viktor Krum."

"You wear your thoughts on your face, Hermione Granger," he retorted. She grinned more easily, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, and leaned back against the wall.

"For all I'm better at Occlumency than Harry, it doesn't do me much good, does it?"

"I would not attempt to use Mind Magic upon anyone without their knowledge!" he exclaimed, insulted.

"I didn't mean literally!" Hermione got to her feet and went to lean against the window glass, trailing her fingers down it to trace each beam of gold sunset. "I'm not a good actor, or a good liar. At least not to people I care about. But how can I talk to them about what I'm feeling when I'm starting to wonder if it's really a warning?"

"Your fears for Harry are growing?" he asked quietly, moving closer to her.

She tried to look at him, then turned her face away. But in hazy reflection on the window glass, he could see her grief, real and imagined, and now anticipated. "Not just Harry," she whispered. "I have this…sense, this…feeling, this horrible feeling…" With a strangled cry, she pressed her forehead to the glass, her hands over her mouth. "I'll be alone. I'll lose them…all of them…if it were just that I was going to die I wouldn't be so scared, I'm not that scared of dying, but if they all die and I'm the only one left even if we do win the war what'll be left in it for me—"

Viktor moved without thinking and pulled her forcefully into his arms, crushing her against him. She buried her face in his chest with a whimper of misery. "That will not happen," he told her.

She wrenched back, teary-faced and now angry, "And how can you possibly know? You told me not to pretend, Viktor, so do me the courtesy of sparing the empty promises!"

"I make no such promises!" Viktor snapped, grabbing her shoulders when she would have stormed away. "You speak of these feelings you cannot explain, but you do not understand them, Hermione, not truly. It is as I have said to you and Harry—you do not understand predestination, the workings of fate and history. Do not presume that all prophecies and premonitions speak only of doom." Startled, Hermione stopped struggling, and he went on more calmly, "The Sight is in all magical blood, Hermione. Your Trelawney speaks of Seers as though they possess some skill exclusive, but that is not so. We all of us have echoes of the memories of our ancestors; they are a part of us. Our fathers and mothers whisper to us in all things, and we are guided by them often without knowledge of where these guiding feelings come from. Often we repeat their steps unknowing."

Hermione too had calmed down, and now looked thoughtful. "Then what's happening to Harry and me?"

Viktor said bluntly, "It is clear that his ancestors and yours have stood at the center of wars such as the one we fight. There is no doubt that you repeat their steps very closely as the struggle approaches its end—but the end is not predestined. Morgana of Avalon has warned you of her brother's fate, has she not? That her end was sad does not mean yours must be."

"Men's actions foreshadow certain ends," Hermione murmured.

"But if those actions be departed from, the ends must change," Viktor finished. "Your only fault would be to assume that you are powerless to help him, or your other friends."

She puffed out her cheeks as she let her breath out. "There's so many people, so many forces at work. I guess that's why I hated Divination. It made me feel powerless."

"That is why we join forces," he told her. She frowned at him, and he pointed out, "Does it not occur to you to ask why my feeling of this is so strong?" Hermione's eyes widened, and he smiled.

She tilted her head at him. "What is it you're thinking, then?"

He met her eyes. "I have told you. You have wisdom that few in the Order can match. I am thinking you will be at the center when the end comes, but Voldemort has none among his number who can give to him what Harry and the Order shall have from you. And…" he swallowed convulsively. "You will not be alone. Not in war, nor after it. Nor now."

Where he suddenly felt shaky, she seemed to steady, and asked in a low voice, "You think that?"

He shook his head, not leaving her gaze. "I choose it. I swear to it."

She slowly held out her hands, and he took them, him coming to her and her to him, meeting in a kiss that began soft and light, the sealing of that promise, then deepened into a passionate embrace that pushed away the fears and frustrations in favor of those other emotions that had long been contained for the sake of the mission that filled their lives. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands rose to run through her hair, and they let themselves forget everything else. War, fear, death, and pain would return with the morning, as it always did, but here and now, there was a chance to forget. The only fault would be to let the chance pass them by.

After some immeasurable time standing there together, Hermione pulled back, their eyes meeting in the growing shadows in a silent question that was answered at once. She might have faltered at any moment, and he would have released her without hesitation; they were both well aware of that, just as she would have stepped away at once if he had wavered. And it was that awareness that freed them both from the careful restraints practiced with all others, and until this moment, towards each other.

So Hermione looked into his dark eyes, and he into hers, for several long moments, then she pulled out her wand. Stepping closer still to him until her entire body pressed against his as he trailed his fingertips along her wrist and hand, they looked to the entrance to their sanctuary, and she cast the charms and wards that would keep them from being disturbed—with surprising ease, considering that he could feel her heart racing against his chest, and his own was beating no less rapidly. She looked back at him then and let the wand fall from her hand to the floor, forgotten like everything else.

And Viktor sank to his knees with her, trembling, desiring both to feel and taste her mouth endlessly and at the same time to continue staring at her in the waning sunlight. There too they cast away the old associations of this small, quiet space: the last vestiges of innocence and childhood they had unknowingly shared in those hours of study here three years before. It had been sacred to him in his memory, a shrine to the youth that had ended so abruptly with the loss of Cedric Diggory's life, and he knew that for Hermione it had been the same.

But it was not so now, for it changed with them, that old cloak of cherished innocence falling away as theirs did. The first white streams of moonlight crept over the windowsill as they lay fully prone, with Viktor's cloak beneath them and Hermione's over them, still in a close embrace, their hands and lips wandering almost lazily. It was not as if they had all the time in the world, but tonight, for the moment, they could pretend that they did.

There was no war at that moment, no fear, no death, no pain to reach their minds as they caressed in the darkness. Nor was there any guilt or shame in their joining beneath the beams of white light flowing over their bodies. They had no illusions; it was not the first time for either of them, but there was no question or need to say that this night was more meaningful than any experience either of them had ever had.

For it gave them a chance, however brief, to let go of pretension and restraint, and at the same time, to forget.

And chances like this were precious indeed.

* * *

_People were fleeing, screaming, from a raging torrent that rose up over hills and buildings, engulfing the land. But it was not the sea rising—the land itself was sinking, with a roar that spoke of a final, brutal punishment. Some cried out for forgiveness of their faults, but it was too late._

_And yet there was one who reached the highest of all places, the most sacred of places, and though her cry was lost in the noise of the raging water, she and that last shard of her homeland were not swept beneath. In time, she stood alone, and yet alive. No longer did she fear the sea, for if it had spared her, it would not claim her now. When the waters calmed and receded, she was again sole mistress of this land, never again to have it taken. This she understood, even though no voice spoke to tell her._

_Guarded by the faith that had led her to live when her traitorous kin had perished in pride, now assured of a new existence in the freedom of immortality, she left the dry edge of the land and walked into the water._

_Four daughters had she, though so alike in form and voice that the eyes of mortals perceived them all as the same woman. They left the land and dwelt there no more, but lived entirely in the water, for it was of the water they were born, not of a father. Few mortals know the secrets of their parentage and their number, but they would favor a few with their tutelage and their magic. _

* * *

_All that is gold does not glitter,  
__Not all those who wander are lost;  
__The old that is strong does not wither,  
__Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
__From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
__A light from the shadows shall spring;  
__Renewed shall be blade that was broken:  
__The crownless again shall be king._

* * *

_She hid her face behind her robes, making herself a shadow in the bright stones of Camelot. The people took little notice of her, for she walked like the humblest of peasants. She dared use little magic in this place, for its guardians would surely be alerted to her presence._

_She was met at the scullery door by another figure in dun robes, but behind the drawn-up hood, she beheld the bright hair and brighter eyes of one who should not be hiding in the halls of her own palace. "What mean you by this, Guinevere? Does the Queen seek to involve me in plots against my brother's place?"_

"_Hold your suspicions, sister of my husband, as it is for his sake that I send for you. There are plots here, true, but they do not spring from me. I hear whispers of Arthur betrayed by his trusted regent."_

_Witch though she was, Guinevere could not hide her intentions from this one. She was telling the truth. "The devils are inside the walls." Guinevere nodded. "What would you have me do?"_

"_I have sent knights still loyal to bid Arthur return, but he fights Emporer Lucius in Rome."_

_She understood. "He will be long in coming. Know you who Mordred's allies here be?"_

"_Some of the lower knights, to be sure."_

_Sounds from the stairs reached the women, and they hushed their voices. Guinevere drew from her robes an object tightly swathed. "Arthur carries the sword, but I fear the scabbard is no longer protection enough for me when the very guardian of Camelot has betrayed us. And in Mordred's hands, it would mean disaster. Take it, Morgan, and keep it from him at any cost."_

_Again their words were interrupted by noise, and Morgana looked past the Queen to the scullery entrance. "You are watched?"_

"_I evaded them long enough for my aims."_

"_What will he do to you?" She and Guinevere had no great love for each other, but their shared love for brother and husband would ally them at any time. _

_Guinevere drew herself up and cast the hood from her face. "Let him do his worst; I have not sent Lancelot or Gawain away, and they remain loyal and formidable. Let Mordred reckon with them when he at last finds the courage to set his hand to me."_

_The footsteps on the stairs were growing loud indeed. "Go now, sister in law, and beware: you may be pursued. Let no part of Excalibur fall into the hands of Arthur's enemies."_

_Morgana did go, and although she heard the cries from behind her indicating that the Queen was discovered, she had no choice but to keep faith that Guinevere's station and her remaining loyal allies would keep her safe—for now. _

_And she was pursued from the walls of Camelot, over the land, by men armed with sufficient tracking magic to see through her arts of elusion. So close were they on her trail that she wondered with bitter spite and fear whether Merlin himself was behind this rebellion. She had long distrusted that wizard, so assured of his own wisdom and aloof in his disdain for the injuries caused by his meddling. Arthur's trust and devotion to the old warlock was the only restraint on Morgana from challenging Merlin outright. And her brother said SHE was misguided._

_At last, it was clear to her that no art she possessed would throw off her pursuers, unless she turned herself into a bird and flew from them—but she could not do that while carrying the scabbard. And she was approaching the shore—trapped at the water's edge, she and the scabbard of Excalibur would fall into the hands of Mordred's men._

_So she cried out to the tutor who had taught her the old, magical ways, who she trusted far more than Merlin. And as she reached the shoreline, the Lady rose from the waters, raising cries of fear and awe from the men. Morgana tore the cloth from the scabbard and hurled it into the water, into the hands from which it could never be prized by any mortal, no matter what old arts he had learned. Even Morgana would not be able to retrieve it if the Lady of the Lake chose to withhold it. But she was not grieved of that, and knew Guinevere would not be either._

_By the time the men sent by Mordred, Regent of Camelot who harbored thoughts of becoming Lord of Camelot (believing that his bloodline entitled him to the station regardless of his fitness), reached the shoreline, Morgana was airborne, flying beyond the range of bow or sword over the water, and the scabbard of Excalibur had vanished beneath the surface of the water along with all signs of the Lady of the Lake._

* * *

Hermione jerked upright with a shriek, her arms extended as if she might turn herself into a bird and fly away right at that second from shock. Viktor lurched awake beside her and grabbed her around the waist. "What is it?"

Gasping as if she'd just been running for her life, she looked around, trying to put together her current surroundings and how much time must have passed. "Dream," she croaked.

Shaking off the last of sleep, Viktor sat up. "A vision?"

She nodded. "More than one, actually."

"What did you see?"

Puzzling over all the different events she had witnessed, Hermione leaned against him, trying to make her heart slow down and her mind let go of someone else's fears. "History." Viktor made a confused noise. "I was—or she was—thinking about things. Remembering things she knows. It was as if she—and I—was reading it from a book and imagining it. It was about the Lady of the Lake, where she—I mean they—came from. And then there was the riddle from The Lord of the Rings: 'all that is gold does not glitter.'" Viktor nodded. "And then I was Morgana, like the vision by the lake when Harry and I fainted. Only she'd gone to Camelot in secret. Guinevere sent for her because Mordred's treason had begun. She gave Morgana the scabbard of Excalibur, but Morgana had Mordred's men after her. So she threw the scabbard to the Lady of the Lake to keep it away from Mordred."

Viktor wrinkled his nose, thinking hard. "There must be a reason for the different parts of the dream. A connection."

"I think so too," she mused. "The very first part…it reminded me of something. And we know there were actually four Ladies of the Lake, four sisters, but I think the first part was about how they were born. Their mother was a mortal woman. There was a flood, and she was saved…somehow." Grimacing, she flopped onto her back. "And seeing as this is before the birth of the Ladies of the Lake, that flood would have been a _long _time ago. There've been a ruddy lot of floods in ancient history."

"Perhaps you are thinking too broadly," Viktor said. "Your visions speak of the Arthurian Wars, but also of the War of the Ring. Perhaps that is the place to start." He pulled on his trousers and outer robe and trotted out into the library. Hermione waited, baffled, until he came back with a stack of books. "The writings of Master Tolkien would seem the place to begin."

"_Lumos._" Hermione picked up The Lord of the Rings while Viktor began leafing through The Histories of Middle Earth. "You know, the riddle poem could easily be referring to Arthur: the "crownless again shall be king" and the importance of a sword in the crowning—good god!"

"What?"

"The _sword!_" Hermione slapped her forehead, appalled at her own denseness. "The sword and the line of wizard kings!"

"Excalibur?" Viktor said in confusion.

"Among other things!" Hermione was almost giddy with excitement. "The first wizard king was Elendil, who carried the sword called Narsil that was broken in battle. Then his sons were killed and the line of kings was lost until his descendent, Aragorn, reforged the sword and renamed it Andúril, Flame of the West and regained the throne of men. And then…"

"His line of descendents was lost until Arthur pulled Excalibur from the stone as proof of his kingship," Viktor breathed. "It is—"

"—the _same sword!_" Hermione chorused with him. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him so wildly that they knocked the stack of books over. Breathless, and a little embarrassed, she pulled back. "Sorry."

"Do not be. I am excited by this too." Then they both caught the double-meaning and blushed. Hermione was suddenly hyper-aware of his bare chest, and her own unclad state. It rather bemused her that they had unthinkingly brought their interlude to a premature end for the sake of digging through books. She leaned against his chest, and he nuzzled her hair. "I said once I had never met anyone like you. That is still true."

Hermione looked up without moving her cheek from his skin. She liked the way he felt. "It's true for me too. You're wonderful, you know."

"I do not know, so I am glad you say it." She laughed, and he lay back down with her head still on his chest, absently rubbing circles on her back. "What is the time?"

She fumbled for her watch. "Quarter to one. Your team leaves in about four hours," she sighed.

Viktor echoed it, then changed the subject. "It is interesting, the significance of the sword, but why are you to know this, I wonder?"

"Hmm." She put her chin on his chest so she could look at his face. "Well, we know she gave the scabbard to the Lady of the Lake—one of them, anyway. And we're thinking Godric Gryffindor got his hands on Excalibur, but did Morgana ever get the scabbard back? And if not, where is it?"

"The scabbard had powers of its own, I remember," Viktor said. "It would be a great asset to Harry against Voldemort."

"Lord! Does this mean Harry's going to wind up some sort of king?" Hermione exclaimed, only half-joking.

Viktor laughed, shaking her with the movement until she braced herself on the floor with one hand. "Somehow I do not think so. But a leader of influence, perhaps. Not unlike Albus Dumbledore. In the days of Arthur and Elessar, power was in the hands of the warriors. Today, it is in the hands of the thinkers and the sorcerers. We have seen Harry's power already." Hermione shivered. "You are still afraid for him?"

"Either I am or she was. It's getting harder to know the difference. Harry seems…he's such a boy sometimes, still. Such a little boy. It doesn't seem right to put him in that position."

"Arthur was very young when he gained the sword. But he had his knights and his tutor. Perhaps his power was more from them than himself, and that is how it will be for Harry."

"I hope so," Hermione sighed. Her arm bumped one of the toppled books, and she grinned and shoved them away. Then her eyes fell on one of the titles.

_The Silmarillion. _"Oy!" Inadvertently jabbing her elbow into Viktor's ribs, she half-scrambled across him and grabbed the book.

"What have you found now?" Viktor grunted, sounding slightly disgruntled for the first time as he rubbed his bruised side.

"Sorry about that." Hermione flipped the book open gleefully and held it up for him to read.

"Akallabeth. The downfall of the island of Numenor into the ocean." Viktor recited, and a slow smile crossed his face as he comprehended her meaning.

"And the queen, the last child of the faithful to the Valar, ran up to the old temple to try to escape," Hermione finished, slapping the book closed in triumph. "It's assumed she drowned along with the rest of them and that Numenor sank completely, of course, but what if it didn't? What if the part of Numenor where the temple to the Valar—the old religion—stood stayed above the water?"

"And the shard of the island of Numenor, the land from whence all wizards came, became Avalon. And Queen Miriel was the mother of the four Ladies of the Lake," said Viktor. "And they became the guides of wizards in all the descending magical wars."

"Are they still alive, do you suppose?" Hermione mused.

"One was killed in the wars, I am thinking," Viktor said. "And Nimue the Fair died of a broken heart after Merlin's death, it is said. Merlin and Nimue had a child also."

"I remember—the water fay. I'll have to look her up, but there have been lots of water fey in history, so odds are they're all descended from Merlin and Nimue," said Hermione. "It would help if there was still a Lady of the Lake around for us to go chat with—once we find Avalon, that is. If we find it."

"I think we will," Viktor said. "And if there is reason for your visions, then it is significant that you have been told the origins of the Lady of the Lake, and that Morgana was her pupil. Perhaps as her descendent, you have inherited her mantle, and the Lady's help."

"That would be useful," Hermione agreed, suddenly noticing that her cloak, which had been doubling as a blanket, had slipped clean off her chest.

"Do you wish me to find more books?" Viktor offered, perfectly willing, but Hermione's heart was suddenly no longer in it.

"Later." Viktor blinked. "We have four hours until this bloody war resumes." With a wandless sweep of her hand, she banished the books back to the stacks. "And I mean to make the most of it."

Viktor needed no persuading.

* * *

A teasing kiss on the jaw line roused her, and she turned over to groggily tug him back into her arms. "It is almost five, beloved," Viktor murmured in her ear. "I must go."

"Damn," she muttered. "Tell Voldemort to bugger off."

She felt him chuckle against her side. "Gladly I will do it, and I think the rest of the Order will also."

With a groan, Hermione rolled onto her back. "Where are you going?"

"I am assigned St. Michael's Mount," he said, getting dressed.

Hermione sighed and hunted down her clothes as well. "I'll go with you to the Hall."

* * *

The Great Hall was a hub of activity, even at this early hour, as the teams assembled their gear and the families quartered at Hogwarts said their goodbyes. Viktor and Hermione walked close together, no longer concerned about the stares or remarks of others, and in truth, everyone else was too preoccupied to notice or care.

Alexiev greeted the two of them with equanimity, and Viktor saw Ron and Ginny Weasley with the rest of their family saying goodbye to Bill and Fleur with the Glastonbury team, but even when Roger Davies called him aside, Hermione did not leave. It gave him a strange, not-unpleasant warmth, knowing that she was there waiting. When he rejoined her, they went to meet the Weasleys.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked Ginny.

"Seeing Remus and Tonks off, I think."

Fleur kissed Hermione on the cheek, and Bill pried himself away from his mother long enough to embrace her and his younger siblings. "We'll see you when we get back."

"Look after yourselves," Ron told them gravely.

"_And _you!" Bill retorted, getting a chuckle from them all. "You take care as well, Krum."

"I will," Viktor replied.

Ginny looked around and frowned. "If Harry doesn't hurry up, he's going to miss you." She went to find him.

"Krum! We're ready here!" bellowed O'Rourke.

Viktor nodded to the others and walked back to his team, Hermione at his side. They paused a few paces from the group (who courteously busied themselves with the gear.) "Be careful," she said quietly.

"I will be. You must also be."

Hermione nodded, looking down, but he saw her trembling. So he abandoned all effort at discretion and kissed her. She clutched at him in response, eyes squeezed shut, until he forced himself to let her go and rejoin his team.

"Let's move, you lot!" Roger ordered, and as they gathered up their gear and headed out the door, Hermione stayed where she was, watching them go, and Viktor looked over his shoulder at her. He heard other Order members calling out farewells and good wishes as they went, but did not look away from Hermione until the Great Hall doors closed and they were marching down the grounds toward Hogsmeade.

"You all right?" O'Rourke asked him.

He didn't answer.

As the Glastonbury team moved out with Bill and Fleur, Ron came over to Hermione and put a hand on her shoulder. "He's a good bloke. He'll be okay." She forced a smile and nodded, not quite up to talking yet.

Ginny came stalking back into the Hall. "Problem?" asked Neville Longbottom.

Her jaw clenched, she growled, "He had _better_ just be sulking somewhere."

Hermione forgot her anxiety for Viktor. "What?"

"I can't find Harry anywhere. Nobody's seen him since he said goodbye to Remus and Tonks!"

Ron hissed. "He…wouldn't…dare."

Headmistress McGonagall came to join them as Ginny marched back out. "Potter?"

"Appears to have misplaced himself," someone said.

"Hang on. I've got one other place to look," Ginny called to them. A few moments later, she returned with a small, square mirror in her hand. "Harry Potter, where the devil are you?"

The mirror glowed with early morning sunlight, illuminating Harry's startled face—startled like someone who'd been caught at no good. "Ginny?"

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing for the mirror. "What do you think you're doing?"

His face had that all-too-familiar resigned, determined look that he got when he'd made up his mind to do something his friends would not approve of. "I've had another dream. I'm sorry, I just had to go."

"Wait!" Ginny yelled, as McGonagall seized the mirror.

"Potter, if you mean to confront him, let us send you with backup!"

"I don't know what I mean to do yet. I just know I have to go!" Harry insisted. "I'll call you again as soon as I figure this out. Don't do anything yet."

"Harry!"

But the mirror had gone dark.

_**To be continued…**_

**_Coming Soon:_** _Harry is being led toward the final battle with Voldemort by a force he doesn't understand, but that same force is affecting Hermione—and although they don't realize it yet, there are others in the Order with ancestors whispering in their ears as well. Soon the voices of the past will be as loud as the ones in the present, and they're leading heroes and villains alike in Chapter Seven: Lineage!_

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!**

**_P.S.:_ **_For those still having trouble following the Arthur/Lord of the Rings background, or who are just curious about what I've done with those two stories themselves, feel free to post questions on my forum, my LJ, or my Yahoo Group—or just email me if you wish. I'll probably post an article explaining the connections I've made in more detail soon, and possibly a short story in which one of the characters in question does the explaining._


	7. Lineage

**_A/N:_**_ First off, a thousand apologies, my dear readers, for the dreadfully long wait I've made you endure. Real Life has caused me a great deal of trouble over the past year, mainly in the form of a failed first round at the dreaded Bar Exam in July '06, which forced me to drop everything in order to study for the crucial second attempt at the Bar Exam. However, I sat for the Bar again in February and the work paid off this time—I passed and am now a fully-fledged lawyer. My thanks for your patients and reminders that you were still waiting for the end of this tale. I've had a rough time getting back on track with writing after all that studying and stress, so I hope this chapter pays off for you. _

_There are only a couple of chapters left, which I am trying desperately to finish in this very week, so I can at least promise you a much faster rate of updates as I attempt to beat the clock to complete this story before July 21st!_

**Chapter Seven: Lineage**

_"DAMMIT!_" Ron shouted, kicking over a chair. "That bloody, careless, sneaky, STUPID prat!"

"He can't have got far!" Ginny said.

"He could have Apparated anywhere," muttered Mr. Weasley.

Ron was now storming back and forth between the Great Hall's tables, occasionally throwing things, and ranting continuously about Harry's stupidity. Hermione sat down as he stomped by, feeling weak and shaky. Ginny came and sat next to her.

"Did you know something?"

"About Harry running off? No!" Hermione exclaimed. The idea! She had never agreed with Harry's cavalier attitude about his own safety, and she wasn't about to start letting him gallivant off at a moment's notice now. "I did have another dream last night, but nothing that really led me anywhere."

That got Ron to stop yelling. "What was in it?"

Hermione frowned, leaning back against the table. "Sort of…history. History of the past wars; it must mean something other than to educate me, but Viktor and I couldn't think of anything before he had to go."

"Tell us," Headmistress McGonagall ordered.

With a shrug, she said, "We saw what we think was the destruction of Numenor—the island of the first wizards, remember?" she added, for the benefit of Ron and any others in the room who hadn't committed the writings of Tolkien to memory. "And Queen Miriel climbing to the temple at the top of the hill, but that place stayed above the flood waters. She was saved for being faithful to the Valar and given four immortal daughters: the Ladies of the Lake. We think the shard of Numenor became Avalon."

"Fascinating," breathed Professor Flitwick. "Perhaps we should ask Professor Binns, but my suspicion is that there is ample evidence to suggest that you are right. There are few truly ancient places in the wizarding world that serve as magical strongholds—Avalon was inherently powerful even before Arthur's time. All magical power has a source."

Hermione nodded. "But it didn't give me much insight of where it might be now, I'm afraid."

"Well, as you say, there must be a reason for it. We can only hope it becomes clear soon," said McGonagall thoughtfully. "Was there anything else?"

"I was Morgana in the dream, it felt at first as if she was studying the history herself. One thing I remember is the poem from Lord of the Rings, 'all that is gold does not glitter.' Then she went to Camelot to meet Guinevere—this must have been when Mordred first started to betray Arthur. Guinevere gave her the scabbard of Excalibur to keep it from Mordred. She ended up throwing it to the Lady of the Lake."

"Hmm." The Headmistress stroked her chin. "The scabbard would be useful to us if we could locate it."

"There's something else," Hermione told them. "The poem made me think of it; I think Excalibur and Andúril are one and the same."

Someone whistled loudly. "The sword carried by the line of the first wizards," mused Flitwick. "We know nothing of its fate after the death of King Elessar—Aragorn, that is. If the Ladies of the Lake are the guardians of a remnant of Numenor, they may well have possessed it before it reached Arthur."

"And again, the question remains: why has Miss Granger been told this?" McGonagall shook her head.

Ron dropped onto the seat next to Hermione. "Now what do we do?"

"Ask Professor Trelawney?" Ginny muttered, scowling. Harry would be in for a rough time with her when she got her hands on him again. The thought made Hermione smile to herself.

_And it serves him right!_

Her vision blurred and something seemed to tug at her mind. It must have shown on her face, because Flitwick asked, "Miss Granger? Is something wrong?"

Hermione pulled a face. "I wonder if this is what having a split personality is like. If Morgana's trying to tell me something, it's not getting through. I don't suppose we have a good Legilimens in the Order?" she asked hopefully.

McGonagall sighed. "The only accomplished wizard at mind magic was Severus Snape, and…" she tilted her head. Hermione grimaced. "And even his expertise was Occlumency. I presume you're referring to a true mind-reader? There are no wizards with the mental Sight to comprehend the mind of another."

"Voldemort does it," Ron pointed out.

"He achieved it through dark magic and multiple magical transformations. It is highly dangerous, Mr. Weasley. If he wasn't mad before he attempted it, he most definitely was after. The mind is a confusing and powerful thing, risky to meddle with."

"Even if a Seer such as Sybil could manage to comprehend it, it's unlikely she could translate what she sensed into words that would be comprehensible to you or I," added Mr. Weasley. With a sad smile, he added, "It's a shame Firenze is no longer with us. There we might have had a chance."

Hermione winced, recalling the brave Centaur's gruesome end at Death Eaters' hands nearly a year earlier, as did the others. "I wonder if that's why they targeted him," mused Ginny. "Of all the people on Hogwarts grounds."

"It's quite possible," McGonagall said. "Voldemort has long feared the perceptions of the Centaurs. Firenze was, to him, among our most dangerous allies."

Hermione's heart lurched, and she stiffened. Ron looked at her. "What?"

"I…but Firenze isn't the only Centaur, is he?" she rasped, as her pulse quickened. "They haven't managed to find any of the others, as far as we know?"

"Not to my knowledge," said McGonagall, frowning as she understood Hermione's meaning. "But they are not allies of ours, my dear, and despite their lack of love for Voldemort, they are unlikely to come to our aid."

"But when was the last time we asked?" Hermione pressed. "If they know more than us about what he's up to now, maybe they'd be willing to help, if only to point us in the right direction! They understand the past as well as the future, better than we do!"

The elder Order members exchanged glances.

"Surely it's worth the risk to ask," said Ginny.

"Miss Granger knows better than you the risks of approaching the Centaurs uninvited, Ginevra," said McGonagall. Ginny cringed.

"But we wouldn't be asking them to _do _anything, just for information," Ron protested. "I think we should go." Several of the other remaining Order members nodded.

But something else occurred to Hermione. "Somehow I think they'd be more receptive to one person asking for help than a wizard delegation." Seeing their reluctant faces, she exclaimed, "For goodness sake, we're running out of time! Harry could be anywhere; _Voldemort _could be anywhere! We can't sit here forever debating what's safest." She stood up. "I'm going."

"At least let me go with you!" Ron argued.

She shook her head. "I think it'd be better if I went alone. If I'm not back in twelve hours, then come looking for me. In the mean time, you might try other ways of looking for Harry!"

* * *

It wasn't until she was halfway across the grounds that she recalled the startled expressions of the Order. Well, she supposed she had been a bit overbearing, but then again, they hadn't challenged or overruled her either. Strange. Unlike them…but also unlike her.

_Rather like Harry, _she thought dryly. Her general _modus operandi _was to let the others make the decisions and then followed the leader. No doubt the Order was as surprised as she was.

At the edge of the Forest, she gritted her teeth and muttered aloud, "Here goes nothing."

Despite her resolution, her nerves quailed. _I'm really not like Harry, _she thought. _Harry wouldn't hesitate. Then again, if I'm going to find him, maybe I should start thinking like him._

With that thought, she forced herself to start walking again. She managed not to take her wand out but let her fingers touch it in her pocket. That was reassuring. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the forest floor in the fading afternoon, and her senses went to hyper-alert. Every little shuffle or creak in the woods felt like a threat, and she was sure she was being watched. Her heart was pounding so loud, she could barely hear.

_I must be mental to do this, _her panicky mind told her, but her feet kept moving forward. _It's for Harry. I have to try…just keep walking._

Her mind wandered to all the awful things that had happened—or nearly happened—to her and her friends in the Forbidden Forest. _Then again, that never stopped Harry._ Or even slowed him down, for that matter. Why _was _Harry so reckless? Really, he didn't even think, not only of the danger to himself but of the consequences for everyone else. Now here she was, walking into the Forbidden Forest. _Am I any better than he is when I think I'm right?_

The bushes rustled, and Hermione froze. _Oh lord…_

"Who's there?"

She didn't really expect an answer. After silence hung heavy for several moments, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to resume walking. Someone was definitely watching her. _If it's the Centaurs, maybe I should stop and try to talk to them again. Then again, if it's _not _the Centaurs, maybe I should run. _She stopped short then, looking all around, but she could see nothing. Whoever was following her, they were an effort to hide themselves. Her fingers tightened on her wand in her pocket, and she walked on.

_Thunk!_

An arrow embedded itself in a tree trunk just inches next to her. Hermione's wand came out in earnest now, but she restrained herself from bringing it fully to bear, and said aloud instead, "I'm not going away, so you may as well talk to me!"

The bushes behind her shuddered, and she dove away as an arm reached out to grab her. Scrambling to the middle of a small clearing, she brought her wand to bear. Arrows were pointing at her from the bushes, and she could hear the snapping of twigs. Only one Centaur clearly showed himself, emerging from the bushes.

_Bane. Just my luck. _She stood her ground and waited.

"You trespass here deliberately, intruder."

_Maybe he doesn't recognize me…I hope. _"Because I need your help. It's a matter of life and death." Hoping she looked supplicant, she dropped to her knees.

The bushes rustled, and Bane sneered. "We do not live here to be at the beck and call of humans." To the as-yet-invisible others, he added, "This is not the first time this one has entered our land to make us do her bidding."

_Damn. _"There's a war on. We do what we have to do to survive. Voldemort will come after you soon enough if he destroys the rest of Dumbledore's friends," she called out desperately.

"We are not a part of your war!" someone replied from the darkness.

"You will be! He'll come from you! Even if Firenze hadn't fought with us, Voldemort would come for you!"

She thought she heard a mutter amongst the Centaurs, and Bane's face darkened. "Firenze was a fool. He betrayed his own kind to serve yours, and died for it. He was a fool."

"He was BRAVE!" Hermione shot back indignantly. "He CARED what happened to innocent people even if they weren't his own race!" She supposed she wasn't being very diplomatic, but Firenze's death still made her sad.

She stood up and faced the bushes instead of Bane. "I know you can see things we can't!" she shouted. "I'm not asking you to 'serve' anyone—just to help! I know you can see what's happening to us!"

The brush rustled near her, and she definitely heard whispering. An unseen Centaur said, "You are aware of what is happening to yourself?"

"I know something is happening," she admitted. "Just not what it is. With Harry, it's obvious; he's connected to Voldemort."

Bane frowned at that, which struck Hermione as odd; surely a Centaur wouldn't be afraid of his name. But then she heard someone say, "You challenge him to speak of him so."

"It's just a name," she said. "I don't believe he can hear me. Not without Harry around, at any rate."

The murmurs in response to that, Hermione dared to hope, might have been respectful. But Bane scowled. "You are all ignorant, human. You do not understand."

"But you do, so you claim, but you never explain anything," she retorted before she could stop herself. She was getting very tired of Bane.

"You are all connected," said the other Centaur. "Humans assume that there are no forces at work that they cannot see."

Pushing back her exasperation, she asked, "But why can we suddenly see it now? I never had prophetic dreams before."

"It is the dark one's doing," said Bane, still grumpy.

"I can't imagine he'd do it on purpose," Hermione mused. "We've already figured out a few things from the visions."

Apparently Bane had decided that they'd be rid of her sooner if they just answered her questions. "The dark one began it, but he never knows where it will end. He did not consider where it would end."

"You mean he wanted to see his ancestors?" Hermione asked. "So it was something he did—but it had the side effect of letting the rest of us see too." The Centaurs didn't reply. A few others had emerged from the bushes and were gazing from her to each other as she puzzled on. "But not all of us are having visions."

"The effects of his act continue to grow," said one of the Centaurs. "Others will begin to feel it. You did so first because your blood is closest to that which he has awakened."

"My blood…you mean _Morgana?_" Hermione hissed. "He went to Avalon to try to reach Mordred's power, then, and the ancestors further back. If it's growing…does that mean he's lost control of it?"

Bane made a derisive noise. "The dark one never had control. Not of the lives past, and he will know it before the end."

"So it's dangerous to us, this thing he's done?" Hermione asked. "Is it dangerous to Harry?"

"The dead would gain life if they could," said Bane. "Or if they cannot, they would have the living join them."

"That's why Harry felt drawn to the Veil," she mused, shivering.

"The Veil is but one visible door. The dark one has opened another, but it is not confined as is the Veil; if it is not closed again, the effects will grow. The fabric of the world will tear."

_And yet you think that's no concern to you, _she thought sourly, but bit her tongue.

"What can I do?" The question sounded absurd, but she didn't know what else to ask.

"You have the power to control the island, just as she did," said a Centaur woman, the first Hermione recall ever seeing. "She will tell you how to restore the Veil."

"But how do I find Avalon?" Hermione pressed.

Bane snorted. "She tells you. Like all humans, you are too fearful to listen. That is why you cannot Divine."

She gritted her teeth. "The visions don't make sense. I see Avalon, but they don't show me where it is."

Bane started to speak, but the Centaur woman motioned him back. Feeling somewhat gratified, Hermione gazed at her curiously. "They will be clear to you when you embrace them. Humans fear the loss of freedom, of self, if they surrender to the voice of another. When you call her to you, she will speak."

Hermione pulled a face. _Well, that's helpful!_ To the Centaurs, she asked, "What about you? Do you plan to go on ignoring the war?"

She knew she was pushing her luck with them, by the way they grumbled, but Bane sneered at her, "That we choose not to scurry to the bidding of humans does not mean we are ignoring anything, narrow mare." He addressed his fellows. "And we have said enough. Let her be gone."

Hermione yelped as an arm seized her around the waist and hauled her off her feet. "Hey!"

The next few moments were a confusion of jolting and pounding hooves, and she only had time to wonder briefly if this was what Umbridge had experienced before there were stars above her and she was roughly set down. Landing on her knees and feeling as if her brain had been rattled around in her skull, she shook her head. Someone grabbed her shoulders. "You okay?"

"We have not harmed the mare. Tell her we shall not be so obliging next time she trespasses."

Hermione got her bearings in time to see the Centaurs retreating back into the forest. Ron, kneeling in front of her, looked indignant. "Where do they get off calling you a mare?"

"By their reckoning, I am," she replied absently. "Well, I suppose I got more out of them than most people, but it still made not a jot of sense."

"Poor old Firenze," sighed Hagrid. "Could use him right now."

"There is no point desiring what we cannot have," said the headmistress briskly. "Come. We must get word to the teams and learn if there has been any sign of Potter."

Something stirred in Hermione's mind. "Desire!"

"What?"

She scrambled to her feet. "Professor, is the Mirror of Erised still at Hogwarts?"

McGonagall nodded. "But how—" Ron began, but Hermione was already running back towards the school.

* * *

The Headmistress led them deep into the dungeons. "Dunno if this is gonna work," said Ron. "That thing had Harry half-mad when he was a first year."

"You exaggerate, Weasley; Albus kept abreast of Potter's activity. He was not overly attached to it." She waved her wand to unlock a heavy, metal door. At McGonagall's command, it swung open; Hermione had never seen the Mirror of Erised before, and wasn't quite certain what to expect. Somehow the big, dusty mirror both did and didn't fit the image in her mind.

Having read about it, she needed no instruction to stand in front of its glassy expanse. "Well?" Ron demanded almost at once.

"Hush, Mr. Weasley, it takes a moment," McGonagall said.

Hermione stared at the mirror until her eyes stung. All she could see was a brown-eyed girl staring intently back at her. _Oh come on, _she thought crossly.

Then, reflected behind her, a tall figure appeared faintly in the glass. Hermione almost looked over her shoulder, startled, until she remembered that he couldn't possibly be in the room—he was on the team headed for St. Michael's Mount. She swallowed hard. The Mirror didn't lie, but it wasn't showing what she needed.

Her own reflection frowned back at her, but suddenly a subtle change took place, and the Mirror showed a woman, not much older than Hermione, but with eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore.

_Morgana._

With a gasp, Hermione put her hand to the Mirror's surface, and the woman echoed her movement. Their fingers met, not glass, but flesh upon flesh, and Hermione had no time to do more than yelp before a bolt of energy seemed to race up her arm.

The watchers in the room let out a collective shout as she rocked back from the Mirror and spun around, staring wildly at them. Then she leapt past them, and her cloak fell to the ground as a black bird streaked out the dungeon door.

Arthur Weasley drew his wand, hoping to snare her, but McGonagall stopped him. "Let her go. She will find him."

"But will she be able to tell us?"

Everyone turned to look at Ron. "What?"

With a bereft expression, he whispered, "Didn't you see her eyes? They're not brown anymore. They're green."

* * *

Once outside the confines of the strange castle, she resumed her human form only long enough to move instantly to the shores of Avalon, driven by some remembered desire she could not fully explain. There, she saw him awaiting her, but when he turned around to face her, something was not right.

"Hermione? How'd you get here?"

She knew not that name. The boy before her bore Arthur's face, Arthur's eyes, but it was not her brother. "Who are you?"

He recoiled. "What? Hermione…bloody hell…who are _you?!_"

Evil wizardry was afoot, she could feel it. The air stunk of it, yet it did not live in this stranger with her brother's face. She strode past him to the water's edge, seeking answers. They came on the scent of the wind from the island.

Avalon was taken. Something dark and filthy held it. How had such a thing come to pass without her knowledge, without warning from the Lady? And what was more…she sensed…_he _was with it.

A hand touched her arm, and she whirled on him. "Hermione, _look _at me! You know me! Come on, I know you're still there!"

He was familiar to the other, she realized. What had become of them? "Arthur," she whispered.

The green eyes narrowed. "No, I'm not Arthur. Arthur's dead, dead for centuries." She hissed a denial, and he tightened his grip on her arm. "So are you. Let her go, Morgana. Let her go!"

Although he was not Arthur, she felt power from him, great and familiar…yet greater even than Arthur's own had been. She tried to pull away, but he would not release her. Arthur's power had not equaled hers, but this man's exceeded it. She wanted to move away, to escape and think, but his grip stopped her.

"Hermione, I know you can hear me. Take your body back! Let her go, Morgana! You don't live here anymore! It's not your time! Hermione, _wake up!_"

Flickers of memory tried to rise from the depths of her consciousness, but she forced them back instinctively, seeking dominion of the body she inhabited. But then voices made them both turn, and over her shoulder, she spotted figures coming down the hillside towards them.

"Harry?" someone called.

"Hermione's possessed!" the stranger shouted.

She tried again to free herself, but then her eyes were drawn to a figure who came swiftly to the lead of the group. His eyes, dark and warm and unlike any she had ever beheld, captured hers, and although he was strange to her own memories, there was a power about him that was not altogether unfamiliar.

Then the consciousness she had fought to suppress rose up with a surge of recognition, as the man held out a hand to her, and emotions came bursting from deep within until they drowned Morgana, sending her collapsing in defeat with a wail of despair.

* * *

Harry caught her as she fell, and Viktor ran ahead of the others to join them. "Hermione?!"

"Harry?" she coughed, and both Viktor and Harry sighed with relief to hear recognition in her voice.

"Thank god," Harry muttered, shooting Viktor an apologetic glance as the rest of the Glastonbury and St. Michael's teams reached them. "I thought I'd lost you."

Hermione shook her head, then glared at Harry and shoved him away. "And what do you think we thought when you ran off again, you stupid git! Are you completely incapable of using your head?"

"You're a fine one to talk, letting Morgana possess you!"

Hermione scowled. "That wasn't exactly the plan," she muttered.

Roger Davies raised a hand in mock-deference. "Hate to interrupt, but what exactly _was _the plan?"

With a quick glance at Viktor, Hermione pointed at Harry, "That one took off as soon as the teams left, apparently from some vision. I couldn't decipher mine enough to figure where he'd gone, so I went to the Centaurs." Several of the Order members hissed. "Well, it was either that or Professor Trelawney. They said something to the effect that I needed to surrender to Morgana, so we looked into the Mirror of Erised. I…" she glanced at Viktor again, then hastily looked away. "I saw her, but then…I can't really remember. She possessed me, apparently."

"You were different when you got here," Harry confirmed.

"And you," said Fleur to Harry, "what have you to say for yourself? Running away again?"

Harry threw up his hands. "I had a dream. There was someone talking to me, telling me the war had started, a dark man. Merlin, maybe. I just knew I had to go. I wasn't even sure where I was." He glanced over his shoulder at the swampy landscape and the hills, and pulled a face. "I'm still not sure, actually. Where are we?"

Several people snorted. "Glastonbury Tor," said Bill, pointing at the cone-shaped hill rising not far away out of the foggy plain. "Supposedly discredited as a site for Avalon."

Hermione tilted her head at it. "It looks different now. When Morgana looked at it just now, it was definitely an island. There was water."

"Oh, there's water," said Tonks, walking to the edge. "Probably looks a bit more island-ish during the rainy season, but there's water now."

At last, Hermione turned to Viktor. "Speaking of which, what are you lot doing here? I mean, not that I'm not glad to see…er…"

Alexiev and several of the others sniggered. Hermann said delicately, "Viktor vas suddenly quite certain that ve vere going the wrong way. Ve had little choice but to follow his lead."

Hermione flushed, and Viktor felt his ears burning. "It seems I have been affected with the same premonitions that drive Hermione and Harry. I felt as though something called me to this place." It was frustrating to think that the same recklessness that he frowned upon in Harry Potter and others in the Order had so easily taken hold of him.

Remus Lupin joined Tonks at the bottom of the hill they were on, gazing over the flat stretch of land between them and Glastonbury. "As interesting as all these new instincts are, we now have to figure out what to do next. I don't see any sign of Death Eaters, but if this is Avalon, it's a safe bet they're there, and that they know we're here."

Several people hissed at that, and the Order members moved into a more defensive formation. Kingsley and Hermann joined Tonks and Lupin. "Walking to it should be easy enough. The plain gets a bit marshy during the wet season, and the river Brue is on three sides, but there's plenty of bridges across. It's narrow, but like to be quite swampy at this time of year. We'll either have to cross the Levels or go around them."

"Meaning we can only reach it on foot from one side unless we Apparate. Not sure I care for that idea. Any wards?" asked Bill.

"Nothing I can detect," said Roger.

Harry patted Hermione's arm and got to his feet. "What's that?" he asked, pointing a structure at the very top of the hill.

"St. Michael's Church, I believe, or what's left of it. Medieval ruin, almost as old as Hogwarts. That's where the supposed grave of Arthur was found, but that was pretty well discredited, from what I've read," Kingsley remarked. "Which again begs the question of how this is Avalon."

"Perhaps a false grave and apparent discredit served as a more effective disguise," Viktor pointed out. "It would be simple enough to plant coffins at the church claiming to be Arthur's, knowing that once they were revealed as false, attention to this place would end."

Hermione studied the small hill, sitting among the pastures and trees in the mist. "It seems so…ordinary."

"Probably the point," Harry murmured. "I don't see any place that could hide Voldemort's forces."

"Not that we can detect, at any rate," said Bill. Harry looked at him and nodded. "The town's on the other side, but in Arthur's time, everything between us and the Tor would be more or less under water. Glastonbury could well have been an island until the fen was drained. Even now, it floods in the spring sometimes. Not good for much more than pasture."

Hermione was staring hard at the Tor. As Viktor watched, she got up and made her way down past the others to the very edge of the marshy plain. Then she knelt and pressed her fingers into the ground, letting the water rise up around them. Fleur started to say something, but Harry motioned for silence.

"We're in the right place. Glastonbury is Avalon," Hermione said slowly. "And there's…something here. I don't think it's only Voldemort."

Harry raised a hand to his scar. "I'm not feeling him at all, and I should."

They were not the only ones uneasy, Viktor noticed. He himself was aware of the sense of wrongness about this place, despite the complete lack of any magic in the air. Finally, it struck him. "This place is populated now," he remarked, getting to his feet. "People, farms, and the town. Yet there is no sound, no movement. It is as though the land sleeps."

He was right; not a bird sang in the dawn, and there was not a man or beast to be seen. Fleur moved closer to Bill and shivered, but Harry and Hermione were calmer than the others…as if they had been here before. "Potter?" asked Kingsley. "Granger?"

"I read that Avalon was separated from the rest of the world by a veil of mist," Hermione said. Harry shot her a startled look, and she patted his hand. "There's lots of magical veils that separate worlds, I'm afraid." Viktor recalled what she'd said about Harry's godfather's fate and understood the younger man's dismay.

"Morgana would know how to open the veil," said Bill. "Wouldn't she? She was Lady of Avalon."

Hermione pulled a face. "I'd guess so, but after what happened at the castle, I'm not sure I want to try that again. She seems a bit eager to run around in my body. Speaking of which, has anyone let the others know that Harry and I are safe?"

"Already done."

That seemed to satisfy her, and Viktor started forward as Harry and Hermione got to their feet and began walking slowly out onto the muddy grasses. But then Kingsley caught his arm. "Wait. Let them sniff it out first; they're the ones whose senses are tuned to the place."

"Our Arthur and Morgana," mused Roger, but Bill and Fleur were not so confident.

"Ouí, and their Mordred along with the modern ranks of Death Eaters are somewhere directly before us," Fleur protested. "We should not be sending Harry and Hermione to the forefront until we know more of what we face!"

"Harry, Hermione, hang back a bit," Bill called. "No way to know if they can see what's happening in this…dimension."

Hermione did turn back, but kept a hand on Harry's arm. "The Centaurs told me that Voldemort started whatever's causing us to be possessed by our ancestors. He wanted Mordred's power, but he's lost control of it—that's why I'm seeing Morgana and Harry's seeing Arthur. More of us may start to be effected. They said something about how the dead want to join the living."

Hermann nodded grimly. "The Deathly Arts are not to be used wantonly or lightly. Spirits walk the earth now by their own will, but if the veil between the world of the dead and living is torn, we could face the destruction of both."

That made Harry swallow convulsively, Viktor noticed, and he let Hermione pull him back toward the others. The mist seemed to thicken around the pair, and Viktor started forward, worried they would disappear into it.

"Hey!" Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her sharply to one side, bringing his wand to bear. "Look!"

Viktor saw what had alarmed him; a figure was moving in the mist, and it wasn't any of the Order. The others hissed and drew their wands as well, but the form wasn't coming toward them, or towards Harry and Hermione. It moved slowly, seeming to meander through the mist aimlessly, and Viktor could not even make out if it was man or woman.

"Vhat is it?" whispered someone.

"_Aquilo!_" Kingsley sent wind from his wand to try to clear the view, but then the figure vanished as the fog blew away.

"There!" Fleur pointed in another direction, and sure enough, there was another form moving.

Viktor ran to Hermione and Harry, with the others close behind him. "Let us fall back," he urged.

"I agree, until we know their intentions," said Kingsley, looking around nervously.

Hermione tugged at Harry's sleeve, but Harry was breathing fast as more faint human forms floated around them in the mists surrounding Avalon. "I don't think they notice us," Harry said softly. "Or if they do, they don't care about us."

"If the dead have been drawn into the world of the living, we cannot assume anything about their intentions," Kingsley told him. "Whatever You Know Who has done, our circumstances may change quickly. We should return to Headquarters and regroup, then decide what is the best step to follow."

Viktor was no longer listening. One of the shapes in the mist was passing close to him, and he could see that it was a female form. She turned briefly in his direction, and he felt certain that she looked at him. "Mother?"

Hermione gasped and grabbed his arm when he tried to walk towards the form. "No!"

Whispers of recognition from the others brought Viktor back to his senses, and he pulled back even as he thought the shadowy form reached out for him. He heard a shout and turned to see Harry approaching a shadow that seemed darker than the others, the form of a man with long, dark hair. "Harry! Don't!" Bill yelled.

Viktor lunged past Hermione and grabbed Harry just before his fingers met the phantom's, hauling him away. Harry stammered a protest even as Hermione ran between him and the shadow he was still reaching for. "That's not Sirius, Harry, it's not the person you knew!"

"Everyone out of it! Back to Hogwarts!" bellowed Bill, and most of the Order obeyed, pulling along those who seemed reluctant.

_"Lady…_"

A whisper that seemed to come from everywhere made them all freeze, and Viktor saw the mist swirling near Hermione. She stiffened, but didn't back away. "I don't think you mean me," she said shakily.

The phantoms seemed to cluster around her, but they weren't reaching for her like they had for the others. Just watching. "They think you are Morgana," said Alexiev unnecessarily.

"I'm not, though. And I don't know what they want from me."

_"He has come."_

"All right, this is bloody creepy," muttered Bill. "Let's go back."

"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed. To no one in particular, she asked loudly, "Who has come?"

"_He has taken it._" The mist thickened again into a human form, but not like the other phantoms. This one was larger, and seemed to float above the ground, almost glowing. _"It is in his hands._"

"Whose?" Hermione pressed. "The…Dark One?"

"In a manner of speaking."

They'd been staring at the glowing form conversing with Hermione so intently that no one had noticed the shadowy form moving toward her until he burst out of the mist and wrapped his arm around her waist, his wand to her throat. Viktor shouted in alarm along with the other Order members and took aim, but Harry's roar of sheer rage startled him into pausing.

"_YOU!_ TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF HER, YOU BLOODY COWARD!"

The former Professor Snape curled his lip. "My terms are simple, Potter. You for her." Hermione growled, but had the sense not to struggle as his wand pressed into her throat.

"Harry!" cried Fleur as Harry started forward. Viktor too tried to advance, but Alexiev and Hermann had him by the arms at once.

"No," Hermann whispered, but Viktor had eyes only for Hermione.

"RELEASE HER!" he shouted. Snape did not even glance his way.

"Your friends may stand a chance if they flee now. No one will pursue them."

"No one's fleeing anywhere," Hermione snarled, but Snape pressed his wand harder.

Harry raised a hand frantically. "No! All right, fine! Voldemort and I have our score; we'll settle it." Snape sneered at him. "I'll go with you, but you'll let her go."

"No!" Bill raised his wand, but Harry knocked the eldest Weasley son back with a flick of his hand.

"This is my choice! I'm making it!" Viktor found that he could not move. Judging by the frantic looks in the eyes of the rest of their companions, the same restraint had fallen on all of them. Viktor had never truly comprehended just how powerful Harry Potter was.

At Hermione's hiss of protest, Harry whispered, "We all knew it had to come to this."

"For once, the boy shows insight." Snape did seem to loosen his grip on Hermione a fraction. "Come, then. Your destiny awaits."

Harry stalked towards him, green eyes flashing murderously. He paused just beyond Snape's reach, and the dark man smirked, loosening his grip on Hermione still more. "You're not taking her as a hostage." Harry drew back, but held out one hand. "You let her go if you want me."

Snape released his grip on Hermione but kept his wand at her throat. "What, Potter? Don't trust me?" He reached for Harry's outstretched hand.

"Can't imagine why not to," Harry spat, and twisted toward Snape so that the man's hand knocked against Harry's hip—where the Sword hung. The blade swung sharply away from Snape, making the older wizard start back, and Hermione dove away from him. She threw herself directly into Harry even as Snape lunged again, and the three crashed to the ground in a heap just as the green bolt of a powerful spell sizzled through the air past them.

Viktor felt the magical hold on his body vanish, and Harry and Hermione were scrambling away from Snape. Harry grabbed the Sword and made as if to cut Snape's head from his body, but Hermione cried, "NO!" and seized his hand, grabbing the hilt of the Sword with him.

Another spell narrowly missed them from somewhere in the mist, but as Hermione's hand touched the Sword along with Harry's, they both froze, their eyes met, and Viktor saw a flicker of green in Hermione's eyes to match Harry's.

Sunlight seemed to rip its way through the heavy fog and tear it like a curtain, parting the mists around Avalon in one violent motion. They all shielded their eyes from the light that glared off the water in which Hermione and Harry now found themselves knee-deep, and made the bright walls of the fortress upon the island before them sparkle.

No longer a solemn tor in the mists of an early foggy morning, inhabited by the last remnant of an ancient tower, Avalon rose brilliant above them, its slopes up from the water guarded by walls that encircled it, level after level, with trees laden with apples dotting the green grass in between. Atop its summit, the walls of an ancient fortress were side-by-side with a great church, and the magic of both made the very air seem to ripple.

But upon the walls and grass of Avalon, the Order beheld black-robed figures, and foremost among them, the glowering reptilian form of Lord Voldemort, who seemed to have paused in mild surprise at realizing that the Order could now see him.

There were fewer Death Eaters there than Viktor had expected, given the numbers that Voldemort had massed before going to ground. His eyes were drawn to the space between the pagan fortress and the Christian church, where a ring of stones could be seen—and felt—that were out-of-place on Avalon's hallowed grounds. Above the stones, he saw, a wisp of cloud still lingered, like the faintest veil of mist.

The magic from that place felt very, _very _wrong.

Voldemort recovered himself and spread his arms wide like a gracious host. "Welcome, Harry. Welcome, Order of the Phoenix. I am so pleased to introduce you to my own Headquarters, since you've been so impolite as to deny me entrance to yours."

Below Viktor, still standing in the water, Harry and Hermione were shoulder to shoulder, the sword still held by both of them.

Voldemort continued, "As it happens, I am truly glad to have you here. I have need of you."

"No doubt this _need _has something to do with the veil you've opened," Harry called out. "What's the matter? Can't control your spells as well as you'd like?"

"On the contrary, Harry, my spells have gone beautifully," Voldemort replied. "No sorcerer in history has ever possessed the power over the dead—until myself, that is."

"You have no power over the dead. If you did, they wouldn't be talking to us," Hermione said.

Voldemort tilted his head at her, and Viktor tensed, disliking the dark lord's attention on her. "Ah. How very strange and sad that a witch so powerful and influential as Morgan le Fey should be represented in our modern days by a Mudblood. How the mighty have fallen thanks to the blood of Muggles."

"We're all still plenty mighty. Especially now that you can't hide even in Avalon," snapped Harry. "And _you_ are the blood of Muggles just as much as any of us!"

Voldemort bared his teeth. "You'll find that any blood, Muggle or magical, can maintain the entry to the land of the dead, Harry. I fear the Muggle population of Glastonbury is all but gone, and I have been forced to use up far too many lives among my own forces as it is."

"What's he mean by that?" someone whispered.

"Only the dying can pass through the veil," Fleur said softly from behind Viktor. "That must be how 'e has done it. Killing his own followers and using the power of Avalon to open a veil here, to draw power from the dead."

"Blimey."

But Harry didn't go charging to meet Voldemort in battle as Viktor had half-expected. He stayed where he was. "The dead aren't your allies, Riddle. You fear death too much, otherwise you'd have realized that you can't control what's beyond the veil. They're getting out more and more, and even if you manage to keep throwing people through it, you'll lose control altogether. You're only postponing the inevitable—getting yourself killed."

"The dead cannot reach me!" Voldemort thundered. "I am beyond them! My return has already proven that, when I did not die by your infant hands!"

Harry shook his head. "Wasn't my hands brought you down that night. It was your own doing, and you're fresh out of Horcruxes this time. Your doing will do you in this time, and you won't come back. What's beyond the veil wants us all, and they'll take you eventually even if they manage to get all of us as well."

"We'll see, shall we?"

Pounding footsteps broke the spell of the confrontation in front of Viktor, and he looked over his shoulder. More members of the Order were pelting down towards the water, clearly able to see Avalon as it was this time. At the head of the group were Ron and Ginny Weasley. In her hand, Ginny was clutching Harry's mirror.

But there was more.

From the sky came a great flock of creatures: dragons, Threstals, and winged horses. Close behind the Order upon the ground came the Centaurs, with bows and arrows at the ready. The one at the lead took aim directly at Voldemort. "This is the hour of doom."

"Of yours!" the dark lord shouted, incensed at the sight of the Order's full strength and unexpected allies.

The Centaur let an arrow fly, which landed directly at Voldemort's feet.

"This is not the first of such hours upon the world of men, nor the last, feeble being. You have no strength while you do not understand—this war between the Dark and the Light wages eternally on this Earth.

And always, the outcome is the same."

**_To be continued…_**

**_Coming Soon: _**_The forces of good and evil square off again as they have many times throughout history. The motives and driving forces of all become revealed, and allegiances thought long-lost are reborn in Chapter Eight: A Light From The Shadows!_

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